I Love Cake. I Also Love Choice.

I never even knew I had a choice.

I just read a note declaring that most people are stuck in jobs they hate. That made me so very sad. I am fortunate—beyond fortunate—to love my work. I get to write, and people tell me how much they love my words, how a particular post resonated with them, or how I inspire them to reach beyond their current situation to reclaim their dreams.

Right now, though, I feel doggedly tired, even though it’s only 8 AM. A fire alarm in my building went off last night, interrupting sleep. And yet—oh, by the way—I took the whole day off yesterday. I made cake (I love cake), watched my favorite programs, and took multiple glorious naps. But this morning? Still tired. And that, too, makes me sad.

I want to feel excited about living this day. So, I have a remedy: I stand up, shake my entire body for 60 seconds, and—don’t laugh—it actually works! The brain fog lifts, energy starts flowing, and suddenly, I’m ready for the rest of the story.

And here’s the thing: I am so grateful I have the choice to do that. Because for years, I never even knew I had a choice.

The Christmas Morning of Choice

For me, having a choice feels like Christmas morning—whenever I decide to make one. Every single time, I grin. And sometimes, I even giggle. Because the sheer joy of realizing, Oh! I don’t have to live on autopilot. I don’t have to stay stuck. I can choose differently!—is still so astonishing to me.

But I think about those who are working jobs they hate. Where is the choice in that scenario? If obligations prevent someone from leaving, the next best choice is to shift how they feel about the job.

Consider this: You are offering a specific service ("Z") for a company for a set amount of hours. In return, you receive the means to live life as you see fit. That’s it. The job is not you. It is a transaction, an exchange. It is not your worth, your identity, or the total sum of your life.

I wish someone had told me this when I was a young mom working a corporate job—so busy that my secretary would compare social calendars with my husband’s secretary. (Yes, that’s how old I am—I still say secretary! Today, it’s admin assistant, right?)

I was drowning in obligations, making sure every single piece of our family puzzle fit perfectly, day after day. And it never even occurred to me to reframe how I viewed any of it. I was just running, running, running—on the proverbial hamster wheel.

Would I have heard this advice back then? Probably not. I was too busy chasing expectations. Too busy trying to earn praise, admiration, and—here’s the big one—love.

The Invisible Cage of Expectations

Trying to live up to the expectations of an entire congregation? That’s hard work. Trying to do it on top of raising kids, managing a household, and working a full-time job? Nearly impossible.

And yet, I did it. Because I thought I had to. Because every single person in my orbit had opinions about how I should live, and not one of them ever noticed I was drowning. Not once. Not ever.

The very idea that I thought I had to earn love—that I had to perform for it, achieve it, prove myself worthy of it—is now a glaring example of how deeply society’s expectations can entangle themselves into our souls.

Some days, I wish I had a magic wand—one grand, sweeping motion to wash all our souls clean of these invisible chains. To free our hearts and minds from the garbage thinking and garbage modes of being that we were told were necessary to live a whole and productive life.

And What About the People in the Cubicles?

I wonder if the people sitting in corporate cubicles right now feel the same way.

Do they wish for a magic wand? Do they feel trapped, not realizing that even in the middle of it all, they still have a choice? Maybe not to leave their job tomorrow—but to shift how they experience it.

I don’t have all the answers. But I do know this: The moment you realize you can choose—even if it’s just how you think about something—everything changes.

And when you make that first conscious choice, it really does feel like Christmas morning.

Every single time.