On Free Will, and Letting Yourself Go When You Need To
The other day, I saw a TikTok that said something like:
“When I realize I have free will and can just go mute and disappear whenever I want.”
It made me laugh at first.
And then it lingered.
Because sometimes the urge to disappear—to get away, to run, to escape—isn’t dramatic or reckless. It’s human. It’s a signal. And for many of us, it shows up when things feel heavy, overwhelming, or just too much to hold all at once.
That weekend, I felt it deeply.
So my partner and I drove to the ocean. No big plan. No agenda. Just the quiet knowing that I needed to go. I needed space. I needed air. And we had the ability, in that moment, to choose it.
I’m aware there’s privilege in that—not everyone can leave town for a day or a weekend. And at the same time, it felt important to name the choice for what it was: an act of listening. Of responding to what my body and soul were asking for.
As we drove, flooded rice fields stretched alongside the road, glistening as the sun hit them just right. The water reflected the sky in a way that made everything feel softer. Ahead, the mountain range looked foggy and distant, even though it felt like spring. Like seasons overlapping. Like life rarely being just one thing at a time.
That weekend, we made no plans.
We sat and watched the ocean.
I wrote poems.
We ate good food.
We got up early for coffee and shared bagels thick with cream cheese.
Nothing extravagant. Nothing performative. Just presence.
And somewhere in all of that, I was reminded of something easy to forget: you can be a sad, anxious, or depressed human and still do enjoyable things. Those two truths can exist together. Joy doesn’t require the absence of struggle. Rest doesn’t mean you’re “fixed.” Sometimes it simply means you allowed yourself a moment of care.
So many of us move through our lives on autopilot—not because we’re doing anything wrong, but because life asks so much of us. Responsibilities pile up. Routines take over. And before we realize it, we’re reacting instead of choosing.
That’s where free will becomes something gentle, not grand.
Free will doesn’t always look like quitting your job or changing your life overnight. Sometimes it looks like choosing softness where you can. Choosing rest in small ways. Choosing to slow down long enough to notice what helps—even a little.
And it doesn’t have to look like a trip to the ocean.
It might look like:
taking the long way home
sitting in your car for an extra minute before going inside
saying no when you’re tired
letting yourself enjoy something without earning it
We don’t control everything. But we do often have more choice than we realize—especially when it comes to how we care for ourselves when we’re not feeling our best.
Sometimes listening to the urge to “run” isn’t about escaping life.
It’s about returning to yourself.
A Gentle Reflection
If you want to pause for a moment:
When was the last time you listened to what your body or soul was asking for?
What’s something small you can control right now that might bring a bit of ease?
If rest or joy didn’t have to fix anything, what might you allow yourself today?
You don’t need to justify it.
You don’t need to make it productive.
Just let it count.
If you’re craving spaces that honor both struggle and softness—where being human is enough—you’re always welcome under the umbrella.