Stuck on a high-stakes decision where both options cost something? Here’s how to separate facts from fear and choose a path you can actually live with.
A few years into coaching, I was having strong sales months while a big chunk of that money went right back out to coaches and masterminds. The bad debt kept growing anyway. Eventually, maxing out another credit card stopped being a viable strategy for my finances or my sanity.
That was a high-stakes decision where both options cost something. Keep paying for the support that seemed to be producing the revenue, or pull back and risk the income it was tied to. (Neither one felt great, which is sort of the point of this post.)
A founder posted in r/smallbusiness a while back describing a version of the same bind. Ten years in business (which is rare: Bureau of Labor Statistics data shows only 34.7% of establishments opened in 2013 were still operating in 2023), solo, and two years into an expansion that would finally give them more freedom and financial security. Then revenue dipped, the loan got restructured, and the project cost nearly doubled.
Their two options: go back to fundraising while burnt out, without knowing if the money is out there, or walk away and slowly repay the investors who believed in them. Both options have consequences, and each one feels like letting someone down. So they hadn’t picked either one, which (as they knew) is also a choice.
If you’re facing a high-stakes decision like that, a risk-free answer isn’t available. The real job is choosing which consequences you’re willing to carry, and doing it from a clear head instead of a panicked body. In economist Steven Levitt’s coin-toss study of more than 20,000 stuck decisions, people nudged toward change were happier six months later. Staying stuck has a price too.
Below: how to separate the decision from the state you’re in, take sunk costs off the scale, find the option you haven’t considered yet, and commit without needing certainty first.
Why does a high-stakes decision feel impossible when both options cost something?
A high-stakes decision feels impossible when every option has a loss attached, because no choice lets you avoid disappointing yourself or someone else. Your brain keeps searching for the clean exit. It doesn’t exist, so the search just keeps running (usually around 2am).
That’s why “make a pros and cons list” rarely helps here. You probably know the pros and cons of each path better than anyone. What’s missing is permission to accept that whatever you pick will cost something.
It also helps to name the third option you’re already taking, which is not deciding. Levitt, a University of Chicago economist, concluded from his research that people facing life-changing choices tend to lean too hard toward the status quo. Staying stuck feels neutral, but it isn’t. Every month of indecision means carrying both futures around in your head at once, and that weight gets expensive.
Should you make a big business decision while you’re burnt out?
You can make a big decision while burnt out, but try not to make it from burnout. A 2012 review by Katrin Starcke and Matthias Brand in Neuroscience & Biobehavioral Reviews looked at decision research published between 1985 and 2011 and concluded that stress does change how people decide, with the effect depending on the situation.
In plain English: when your body is in fight-or-flight (the stress response that preps you to escape danger), every option starts to look like a threat. Fundraising looks like a cliff. Walking away looks like a slightly different cliff.
I know this one personally. Back when my sales months were strong and my debt kept climbing, I had plenty of strategy. What I didn’t have was any sense of safety, so every decision got made from that place, which is what running your business in fight or flight does to you.
So calm your system down enough to think first. A walk, a somatic practice, a weekend with your phone off. Then look at the numbers again. (Sometimes the numbers really are the answer, and no amount of breathing fixes a spreadsheet.)
Are there really only two options?
Most high-stakes decisions that feel like “A or B” have a C hiding in them. The binary usually comes from exhaustion, since two options are about all a tired brain can hold at once.
For the founder above, “fundraise or abandon” leaves a lot out. They could formally pause the expansion and give investors an honest timeline. They could scope a smaller version of the project, or bring in an operator to take daily work off their plate before fundraising again. One commenter suggested a 12 to 18 month recovery window with no active fundraising, which is a real option with its own trade-offs.
A repeat client of mine came back during a hard personal season, framing it as “focus on the business or focus on my life.”
We spent the first two to three months on him, then clarified his messaging and built a launch plan. A few months later he was invited to lead three paid speaking workshops. The real question had been which one came first.
Before choosing between A and B, write down at least three more options, even bad ones.
How do you keep the sunk cost fallacy from making the decision for you?
The sunk cost fallacy is the tendency to keep investing in something because of what you’ve already put in, rather than what it will return from here. The money, time, and emotional energy you’ve spent are gone either way. They shouldn’t get a vote.
They usually get one anyway. In a classic 1985 study at Ohio University, Hal Arkes and Catherine Blumer asked people whether an airline president should spend the last 10% of a research budget on a plane a competitor had already beaten to market. When $10 million had already been invested, 85% said finish it, versus 17% when there was no prior investment.
Try this instead:
Picture this: if you were starting fresh today with what it costs and the energy you actually have now, would you start this project? If yes, the past investment is a head start. If no, what you’re feeling is grief. Grief deserves attention, just not control of your budget.
How do you tell guilt from responsibility?
Responsibility is about what you owe people, and guilt is about how you feel about owing it. They often point in different directions, and guilt tends to push you toward whichever choice keeps everyone else comfortable this month.
The founder’s investors are a real obligation. Responsibility looks like telling them what’s happening, offering a realistic repayment plan, and following through. Guilt says you have to keep going no matter what it costs you, because stopping would make you a disappointment.
A commenter on the original post asked something useful: did the investors back the expansion specifically, or did they back you? People who invest in a founder ten years in are usually betting on the person. A slower plan you can sustain may serve them better than a burnt-out sprint, and the guilt insisting otherwise is sometimes a wealth wound talking.
You can take full responsibility for a decision without punishing yourself for it. Only one of those helps your investors.
What does your body already know about this decision?
Your body often registers a preference before your mind will admit it. A simple check: sit quietly, pick one option, and spend two minutes acting as if you’ve already decided. Notice what happens physically. Then do the same with the other option.
You might feel expansion (more breath, more room, maybe a little excitement) or constriction (tight chest, clenched jaw, sinking stomach). One caution I give clients: constriction doesn’t automatically mean “no.” It can be fear of something you actually want, or an old safety alarm going off. Treat the sensation as information and keep asking what it’s about.
Most people who say “I don’t know what I want” do know. What’s hard is believing it’s possible, or trusting themselves enough to act on it. That’s often the actual constraint, and it’s worth naming before you collect another round of outside opinions.
Is this a one-way door or a two-way door decision?
A one-way door is a decision you can’t easily reverse; a two-way door is one you can walk back through if you don’t like the other side. Jeff Bezos described this split as Type 1 and Type 2 decisions in Amazon’s 2015 shareholder letter, arguing that most decisions are reversible and only the irreversible ones deserve slow deliberation.
Big decisions are usually a bundle of both. In the expansion example, signing a new loan is close to a one-way door. A 60-day fundraising push with a clear stopping point is a two-way door. Splitting the decision into pieces lets you move quickly on the reversible parts and slow down only where it counts.
Here’s how the founder’s options might compare:
| Option | What it costs | What it protects | How reversible | What you’d need to know first |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Resume fundraising | Energy during burnout; attention away from operations | The expansion and the freedom it was built for | Mostly reversible until a loan is signed | Whether the remaining capital is realistically out there |
| Formal pause (12 to 18 months) | Momentum; a longer investor timeline | Your health and the core business | Fully reversible | Whether investors will accept a revised timeline |
| Scaled-down expansion | Part of the original vision | Growth at lower risk | Partly reversible | Whether a smaller location still pencils out |
| Abandon and repay | The expansion’s upside; a long repayment period | Your capacity and a clean slate | Hard to reverse | What growth looks like without a bigger space |
Will you regret changing course more than staying put?
Research suggests regret works on a delay: people tend to regret actions more in the short term and inactions more over a lifetime. Cornell psychologists Thomas Gilovich and Victoria Medvec laid out that pattern in a 1995 review in Psychological Review. (It isn’t airtight. A 2023 replication in Royal Society Open Science found the shift over time but not a strong overall lean toward inaction regrets.)
Levitt’s experiment points the same way. Through a site called Freakonomics Experiments, people stuck on a choice flipped a virtual coin, producing more than 20,000 usable tosses. Those told to make a change were more likely to do it and reported being happier six months later. The catch is that everyone in the study was already on the fence. (Which, to be fair, you probably are.)
Bezos’s regret minimization framework asks the same question from a different angle: picture yourself at 80 and ask which choice you’d regret not making. It won’t decide for you, but it tends to make the scarier option look a little less unreasonable.
How do you actually commit to a high-stakes decision?
Commit by giving the decision a deadline, a first step, and a check-in date. Without a deadline, a hard decision stays “almost made” for months, and that limbo usually drains more energy than either outcome.
- Pick a decision date within the next two weeks and put it on your calendar.
- Gather only information that could change your answer. If a fact wouldn’t change what you’d do, it can wait.
- Write the decision in one sentence, plus the first action you’ll take within 48 hours.
- Tell the people affected (investors, lenders, team, family) with an honest timeline.
- Set a 90-day check-in so the decision doesn’t have to be perfect on day one.
Decision paralysis tends to break once you stop requiring certainty before you move. Certainty isn’t on the menu. Knowing you can handle what happens if it doesn’t work out is usually enough.
FAQs: Making a high-stakes decision
Q: What is decision paralysis? A: Decision paralysis is getting stuck between options long enough that not choosing becomes the default. It’s common when every option involves a loss, when you’re stressed or burnt out, or when you’re waiting for certainty that isn’t coming. A decision date and a short list of what would actually change your mind usually help.
Q: Should I flip a coin to make a big decision? A: A coin flip can help, mostly because of how you react to the result. Relief and disappointment are both useful information. In Steven Levitt’s study, people told by the coin to make a change were happier six months later, though everyone in it was already on the fence.
Q: How long should I take to make a high-stakes business decision? A: Match the time to how reversible the decision is. Reversible choices deserve days, not months. Irreversible ones, like signing a large loan, deserve careful research and outside input but still need a deadline. Setting a decision date two to four weeks out works for most people.
Q: Is it a failure to walk away from a business expansion? A: Stopping a project because the numbers, the timing, or your capacity changed is a business decision. What matters is how you handle it: honest communication with investors and lenders, a realistic repayment plan, and a clear next direction for the business you already have.
Making a decision you can live with
A high-stakes decision with consequences on both sides won’t come with a guarantee. What you can do is decide from a calmer body, take sunk costs off the scale, look for the options you haven’t named yet, and own the outcome without shame.
You also don’t have to make the call alone. (Solo founders especially: you’ve been carrying every decision by yourself for a long time, and that’s tiring in a way people with business partners don’t always get.)
If you’re sitting on a decision right now, send it to me through Conscious Conclusion. It’s free. You tell me what you’re deciding, the options you’re weighing, what you already sense, and the practical constraints. Within five business days I’ll email back my read on what’s actually in the way, with practical and intuitive guidance (and cards, if you’d like them).
If you’d rather have a steady advisor while you work through it, that’s what my monthly coaching is for: up to four calls a month plus weekday messaging, moving between strategy, coaching, and somatic work as the situation needs. Work with Alison
Go deeper
- Strategy: what to do when you hit a wall in your business, why I decided to close my membership, why I quit my first coaching business
- Mindset: the Martyr wealth wound (when sacrifice feels noble) and the Money Fears wealth wound
- Resilience: running your business in fight or flight and nervous system regulation for entrepreneurs
- Self Trust: the intuition challenge (telling intuition from fear) and divine timing and manifestation
About the author: Alison Reeves is a holistic business coach with more than 15 years in marketing and nearly a decade coaching entrepreneurs. She’s trained in somatic and trauma-informed coaching and is the author of Embodied Abundance. Work with Alison
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