A Guide to Getting Lost: Tough Decisions for New Hikers
A Guide to Getting Lost: Tough Decisions for New Hikers
Happy 18th Birthday, Hiker! You’ve now earned the right to navigate uncharted territory, get lost, and do it alone. Not to worry—in three simple steps (brace,confront, and onward) we will walk you through the process of getting lost on a trail. Enjoy the journey!
Step 1: Brace
New hikers like to hang on to parts of the trail they feel they still have control over. Below is the experience new hikers have when bracing themselves to get lost and the types of decisions you may make.
Figure 1: Common Application
Personal Essay: ☑
High School Transcript: ☑
Education: Singapore American School, 2014-2025
Hiker’s Testimony:
I find comfort in the parts of this form that are already filled out; I can surrender control for questions like ‘Date of Birth’ and ‘Education’. As I prepare to confront unchartered territory, I cherish the few moments left where I am not the decision-maker. For these aspects of the trail, I can just sit back and relax. For the first 18 years of my life, relinquishing control was habitual.
I brace myself for the parts of the CommonApp where that privilege will inevitably be out of my reach. For those questions—the essays that ask me to consider what I will do with the next 70 years of my life—I want to scream.
Figure 2: Common Application (Cont.)
Intended major and Why Our University(200 words):
Political Science and Government. My insatiable enthusiasm to spark-notes an 800-page Communist Manifesto analysis fuels my undying passion to study at your “one in a billion” political science department. There is truly no place on Earth like rural Connecticut (Go Minks!).
Hiker’s Testimony:
I’m not allowed to scream, so I doom scroll through college websites and application tips on my TikTok feed, looking for advice on picking the perfect major and writing the perfect essay. I can’t help but think that this whole process is ridiculous. My fingers ache from the hours I spend deleting a comma and adding an adverb, attempting to distract myself from the big decisions I will need to make with minute details. I’m sickened by the feeling of not knowing where I’ll be in six months: will I be somewhere cold? Warm? Will I love it? Hate it? How can it be my responsibility to answer life-changing questions? I respond to this frustration with a futile attempt to gain control one last time, this is a feeling I’m not yet used to. This is uncharted territory, and I am very lost.
In some ways, bracing to get lost is the hardest part of any trail. It is normal to feel overwhelmed when you are packing for your hike, unsure if you should bring snow boots or sunscreen.
Step 2: Confront
You will make tough decisions as a new hiker. Sometimes, you will confront a fork in the trail. You will feel most lost when thinking about the other paths you have taken, and trying to come to terms with the path you chose. There is no way to tell where each path leads in unchartered territory.
Hiker’s Testimony:
I hover over the submit button for a second. Okay, I have been hovering over it for months. I’m terrified of the responsibility in decision-making. Keyword: responsibility. If there is a right choice for everything, then surely there must be a wrong one. Why did I choose this major? Why this school? Standing at a fork in the road, I cannot help but look over my shoulder, searching for some sort of reassurance. Instead, I’m left wondering about the paths I’ve left behind.
I’d always wanted to be a doctor until tenth grade. Thirty minutes after my first accelerated chemistry class finished, I dropped into regular chemistry. It dropped out because everyone in that classroom felt smarter than me. Out of fear, I pivoted, trying to make my path feel less treacherous. Would I have been okay in that class? Could I really have been a doctor?
The trail put me on a fast track, forcing me to make decisions long before I was ready. So, I write essays about my insatiable desire to study a subject I barely know for a life I’m unsure I even want.
I mourn for all the versions of reality I’ve forgone. In a world where we can become anything, picking a single path is tragic. I close my eyes and take a step forward.
It is difficult to make choices, especially when you don’t know what views you might have seen on the other path. At this point, you will need to live with the discomfort of not having the answers to the questions you’re asking.
Step 3: Onward
Moss grows on the north side of trees; ant hills point south; birds fly lower before the rain. Rather than looking for answers on where to go, look for signs that this direction suits you.
Hiker’s Testimony
I feel like I’ve been spun around really fast; I’m still dizzy and directions on where to go don’t make any sense. The questions I asked when first confronting a fork in the road will always be unanswered. Somewhere between now and then, I made decisions about my life—my major, my friends, my school—before I understood the consequences.
So, I look for signs that this direction suits me. Last week, I realized how much I’d learned from a ten-year-old in India I met through an activity I did for college. That moment felt like a sign to keep going. A month ago, I read a political science book that really stuck with me. It made me even more interested in the major I’ve picked. It is hard getting used to not knowing where I’m going, but I’ve realised that being lost and enjoying the path don’t have to be mutually exclusive. I’m beginning to trust myself. And if the path feels good, then I have faith in the destination.
I still feel dizzy in all this new responsibility, but I’m learning to find comfort in signs that I’m on the right track.
Congratulations, hiker, you have made tough choices to help you navigate uncharted territory! From here on, you will be expected to make more decisions about the path you pick by yourself. You might never know exactly where you’re going, but look for signs that you enjoy this path. And of course, it’s never too late to pivot.