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"Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does." 

~ Jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingness

Jean-Paul Sartre’s concept of radical freedom suggests that human beings are entirely free to make their own choices, unbound by any inherent structure or predetermined destiny. In this sense, we are not subject to an outside force dictating our path—we are the creators of our own meaning and existence. However, with this vast freedom comes an equally vast responsibility. Sartre argues that when we make a choice, we are not only choosing for ourselves but also setting an example for others. In a sense, we are choosing for all of humanity because, in making our decisions, we are shaping the world others will live in.

This may sound empowering at first, but Sartre saw it as both a gift and a burden. The realization that we are entirely responsible for creating meaning in our lives—and that every action we take ripples out and impacts the lives of others—can be overwhelming. We are free to choose, but this freedom requires us to reckon with the consequences of our actions.

This idea is reflected in the quote I shared at the beginning of the chapter. For Sartre, freedom was not only a gift, but a burden—it was heavy and difficult to manage. He acknowledged that experience has no inherent meaning, but he struggled with the weight of responsibility that came with the idea that our choices affect other people. So, how do we reconcile this challenge? Let’s break it down and explore how we can navigate freedom in a way that makes sense, given our understanding of the world and how it works.

We are inherently free to make our own choices, but many of us don’t fully realize the abundance of options available to us.

 Sometimes, pain clouds our perception, preventing us from seeing the choices right in front of us. Other times, we simply don’t like the options, so we choose to ignore them. Even when the options are clear, we often avoid making certain choices because we fear the potential consequences. Put simply, if we can accept the potential consequences of our choices, we can do whatever we want. No one is directly stopping us or holding us back—the only thing that holds us back is our own fear of those consequences.

When we look at society, it's clear that it's built upon a deep fear of consequences. We have a system of rewards and punishments in place, and the only reason it works is that people are terrified of the potential outcomes of their actions. Self-mastery, however, teaches us that we can manage ourselves within our experience and trust that we can handle what happens next. So, do we really need to be afraid of the consequences?

This depends on the circumstances. If I’m stuck in a job I hate, leaving might be a valid option—but it comes with potential consequences. How unbearable is my current situation? Have I explored all possible alternatives, like finding another job first or cutting expenses to create a safety net? In some cases, staying might seem like the better option, because at least it provides financial security. When we question the experience, we find reasons both for and against every choice. In the end, the only thing we really have to do is pick the option that feels right to us in the moment.

No one is taking any of the options away from you except you. If you’re dismissing the options in front of you, that’s on you—it’s not a societal problem, and it’s not about anyone else. Choosing “none of the above” is still a choice, but when that choice limits you or prevents you from moving forward, it becomes something to question within yourself. Why do I feel stuck?

The experience of disliking a job is still just an experience. It’s a neutral thing that happens. Our reaction to it is based on our judgment of it and usually comes with a certain level of fear—losing stability is a valid concern. But what is the likelihood that I will be completely without options? It’s probably pretty slim. Even though it’s uncomfortable, I still have time to explore alternatives. I still have time to make better choices.

If we look closely, most of our fear around making choices comes down to one human-constructed idea—time. How much or how little time do I think I have? Emergencies arise because of a lack of time. Too much time, on the other hand, can lead to apathy or procrastination. When we’re in a stable job that we dislike, we have an abundance of time to make a decision we’re afraid to face—so we avoid it. That avoidance breeds apathy, and the choice remains unmade.

By digging deeper into the fear that makes us avoid the choice, we’ll uncover a problem entirely different from the one we see on the surface. The real issue isn’t the decision itself—it’s the fear of running out of time once the decision is made. What if we can’t figure out all the pieces fast enough? The problem feels unsolvable because we won’t know until we take the leap. By avoiding the choice, we reinforce the story—feeding both our apathy and our fear of not having enough time.

Let’s return to the idea of radical freedom. We have the freedom to choose to leave our job. Nobody is going to stop us. The real issue is not external forces—it’s our fear of the consequences, specifically the fear of running out of time to solve the problem we’ve intentionally created by leaving a job we dislike. The more we focus on the problem, the more we perceive our freedom as limited. We start telling ourselves a story about all the terrible things that will happen if we don’t find a new job fast enough.

Is that story true? Yes and no. While there’s a small chance the worst-case scenario we imagine could happen, how likely is it? If it’s unlikely, then why do we allow it to limit our freedom? Rare worst-case scenarios aren’t sufficient reasons to hold ourselves back. Things tend to work out in unexpected ways. If we trust ourselves to handle whatever happens next, the worst-case scenario loses its power to restrict us.

By simply questioning our own thinking, understanding the source of our pain, and releasing the fear we hold onto, we clear a path to move forward with our choices. Radical freedom isn’t about making reckless decisions or ignoring the consequences, hoping everything will work out. It’s about recognizing the likelihood of those consequences, accepting the risk, feeling the fear, and doing it anyway. By embracing both the risk and the fear, we unlock options we didn’t even know were available to us.

Freedom and Authenticity

Life is about choices. Everything we do, say, think, or feel on any given day is a choice. We make these decisions, consciously or unconsciously, in every moment. This can feel both overwhelming and empowering, depending on how we perceive it.

Sartre’s concept of radical freedom can feel overwhelming because it extends our perceived control beyond what is realistically possible. By nature, humans have a very limited circle of control, which shapes our perception of the world. I believe we are meant to accept these limitations rather than resist or change them—our limited perception and control are inherent aspects of being human. The feeling of being out of control doesn’t come from actually lacking control; it comes from believing we should have more than we do. But that belief contradicts the natural limits of human perception and control. When we push beyond those limits, we are confronted with a vast, overwhelming world, which makes us feel lost at sea, rather than free to swim around.

By accepting our limitations, we give ourselves the freedom to make authentic choices. I can only control the immediate impact of my decisions based on the things I’m aware of right now. Everything outside of that is beyond my control and, therefore, not my concern. When I accept that my scope is limited and begin questioning the human rules that govern us, I encounter a challenge. These rules often expand the scope of our control and perception, adding complexity where simplicity would be more liberating.

Authenticity isn’t complicated. It’s simply about understanding who we are—without the influence of pain—what we want, and the direction we need to move in to fulfill our innate desires. We accept the limitations we face, embrace the outcomes of our choices because they open the door to new possibilities, and keep moving forward in the direction we’ve chosen.

When we let our experiences convince us that we can’t or shouldn’t do something, we prevent ourselves from being authentic—we end up hurting ourselves intentionally. The experience shifts from an opportunity for self-understanding to a form of self-inflicted pain.

Our true responsibility with our choices is to avoid causing harm intentionally. It’s okay to make decisions that others might not like, as long as we do so with kindness and compassion. When we step beyond that, we stop taking responsibility for our choices and instead project our own pain onto others. When we’re unable to act with kindness and compassion, we disconnect from our true nature—the version of us that is free from pain. At that point, our choices are no longer authentic.

Pain is real—it’s just not authentic. That distinction is important. Our emotions are real, valid, and necessary. They function as a guidance system, a kind of internal GPS, showing us what we like, what we don’t, and offering insight into our unconscious mind. Emotions reveal when pain is present in our actions or words. To live authentically, our role is to recognize the pain, heal it, and ensure it doesn’t shape our decisions in ways that project it outward.

When we make decisions based on pain, we inevitably create more pain. While we might address an immediate problem or need, the pain often lingers and follows us. This is partly due to our limited perception—we can’t see the full ripple effects of our choices, which is a good thing in many ways, but it also means our understanding of the outcome is shaped only by its immediate impact on our lives. Pain begets more pain. When we act from pain, it returns to us in kind—that is the nature of the Universe. But the reverse is also true: when we make authentic choices, we create authentic realities, reducing the presence of pain in our lives.

When we stop focusing on the pain we perceive in our external realities and instead turn our attention to the pain we express through our actions and words, we begin the process of healing. Healing ourselves is the first step to authentic living. If we don’t heal, we risk recreating the pain in our experiences. However, when we heal, we gain clarity and a more authentic vision for our lives—one that is not defined by reactivity, but by conscious choices. This shift allows us to decide what we want to keep in our lives and what we no longer need, ultimately giving ourselves the freedom to create a truly authentic life, free of the cycles of pain.

The Responsibility of Freedom

Freedom can seem both empowering and demanding. It’s empowering because we can free ourselves to make the choices we want to make, even if they go against human rules or societal norms. It is also demanding because it requires us to have an awareness of ourselves and what we’re putting out into the world. Freedom doesn’t give us the power to go around intentionally causing harm. Freedom gives us the power to heal and make a better choice because we can use those things to see our experience more clearly.

People naturally have a warped perception of experience because we filter our present reality through past pain, beliefs, and human rules. These filters give us an interpretation of our experience that is inherently painful. If we filter our experience through pain, it will create a painful meaning from the experience, whether that’s the intention or not. To stop seeing our experience as painful, we must stop filtering it through past pain.

Our freedom lies in our ability to heal ourselves. We are freeing ourselves from the pain—not the government system, not the flow of money or currency, not the laws of gravity—but from the cycle of pain that most people find themselves in at some point in their lives. Freedom from pain offers a profound clarity of experience because it allows us to recognize the pain in others. When we can see another’s actions or words as a projection of pain, we can move from anger or resentment to compassion. We free ourselves to respond compassionately and kindly instead of needing to defend ourselves or pick a fight.

This is seen as weak. Society encourages, even demands, that we defend ourselves, that we create walls of self-defense and protection to keep unwanted pain out. When we can see the pain as nothing more than a snowball being thrown in our direction—one we don’t have to catch, pick up, take on, or destroy—we free ourselves from the perpetual fight most people find themselves engaged in on a daily basis.

Life is seen as a battle to be won instead of an opportunity to explore. Because we are taught that life is a battle, it inherently encourages us to fight against and defend ourselves from the life we’re living. When we stay in self-defense, we miss so many opportunities for connection and growth. We miss new experiences, new ideas, and new ways of being. We unconsciously protect ourselves from the change we’re trying to create in our lives. We want life to be better than it is, but when change is offered, we fight against it. Why? Because change is scary, and the fear we feel naturally makes us want to defend ourselves, causing us to miss out on the very thing we wanted.

Freeing ourselves from the perpetual need to fight and defend allows us to begin taking responsibility for how we feel, think, and behave—without the story of blame. It’s easy to blame the experience for our thoughts, feelings, and behavior. Self-defense encourages and even validates the story of blame. When the proverbial snowball is thrown, the stories of blame and self-defense make it really easy to pick up the snowball and toss it back. When we do that, we perpetuate the fight and the cycle of pain that exists in our lives. If you don’t want to fight, stop throwing snowballs. Resist the urge to blame the experience for how you feel and instead question where the story came from. Why do I believe I need to defend myself or engage in this fight?

If you sit down with yourself and become very honest about why you do this, you will likely find that you do it out of habit. You were taught, like so many others, that you have to teach people how to treat you by demanding certain types of treatment. The problem with this lie is that you don’t have control over how people treat you. You can only control yourself. You must make choices for yourself about whether to stay in, leave, or limit the relationship—without demanding anything from the other person. When you stop demanding that people treat you a certain way and stop fighting with them to change their behavior, the relationship will change. It has to because you’re now showing up differently.

I used to see this as a burden. Why do I have to take responsibility for my behavior while everybody else gets to do whatever they want? Why am I on this path to become a better person while they aren’t? These are valuable, if not painful, questions I’ve had to ask myself. Why am I doing this? How did I get here? Do I even want this? Becoming better isn’t about what others aren’t doing. It’s not a punishment. I’m not trapped in this. Those questions gave me the ability to consciously accept the freedom I was being offered. I don’t have to be in pain the same way as the people around me. I’m not stuck in the cycles they are. I get to live my life differently because I made the choice to better myself. I chose to heal, and now I get to set an example of what that can look like. It’s not a burden, it’s a life path and a choice, one that I’m grateful for and that I don’t take lightly.

That’s not to say that freedom doesn’t come with a price. I had to let go of who I was. I had to release the pain I was holding onto. I had to accept that my life, and the choices I’ve made, were fully my responsibility. Nobody did anything to me. I created all of this for myself. I’m not mad at myself. I don’t blame myself. I don’t feel guilty or ashamed of the choices I’ve made. I feel no regret. I’ve offered myself peaceful acceptance of the life I’ve lived up to this point. Peaceful acceptance gave me the freedom and clarity I needed to end old, painful cycles and make new choices. I gave myself the ability to question the human rules I was following that led me to make painful choices. I don’t blame the human rules for my choices, but I do question the value of those rules when they cause pain. Human rules are subjective, and when they cause pain, they should be let go of.

Love to all.

Della