CONNECTING THE DOTS

I feel trapped—imprisoned behind towering walls. Not only do they block the light, but they also seem to be closing in on me.

This period of despair has instilled in me the belief that I am powerless. And yet, not so long ago, I felt like an unstoppable eagle, soaring freely over tropical rainforests on the other side of the planet.

It’s unbelievable how quickly everything can change!

The same human mind that landed on the moon and sent spacecraft orbiting the Earth can suddenly stand paralyzed before an invisible obstacle—an obstacle that no one but me can see. An inexplicable force that holds me back from moving forward.

Strings pull me from every direction. Whenever my will begins to weaken and I start moving toward one side, the others pull me back. Their opposing forces leave me suspended in the middle—motionless, unable to move in any direction, seemingly without the strength to break free.

But then it occurs to me: Am I really free, in the first place?

I don’t believe so.

Perhaps no one is ever completely free. Complete freedom may be nothing more than a myth.

We like to believe that we make our own choices. And, to only a little extent, we do. But those choices are rarely as free as we imagine. They are shaped, influenced, and constrained by countless biases, circumstances, calculations, fears, expectations, and assumptions.

Perhaps the true opposite of freedom is not imprisonment. Perhaps it is bias.

Before making even the simplest decision, our minds unconsciously calculate risks and anticipate consequences. We consider what we might gain, what we might lose, how others may react, and what could go wrong. Even the most reckless decision is not entirely free from influence. It is still dictated by the individual’s needs, desires, fears, impulses, or circumstances at that particular moment.

Imagine that you decide to travel to Paris. And you decide to go now. You make the decision without telling your family, informing your friends, applying for annual leave, or even preparing a travel plan. At that moment, you may believe that you have exercised complete freedom.

You decided what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. But then comes the moment of truth.

Your budget is insufficient to spend the week in Paris that you had imagined. The weather forecast predicts storms and heavy rain for the next two weeks. There are no direct flights available, and the alternative requires you to pay significantly more for a connecting flight.

Suddenly, your decision is no longer yours alone. You are now forced to reconsider. You may shorten the trip. Postpone it. Change your destination. Or perhaps abandon the idea altogether. The choice you believed was completely yours has now been reshaped by forces beyond your control.

Your freedom existed—but only within boundaries you had not created.

And perhaps that is the nature of most of our choices. We are free to choose, but only within the possibilities that life allows us to see.

For most of my life, I believed that I understood this equation. I believed that if I continued to prepare myself, learn more, work harder, and go further than what was expected of me, I could somehow shape my own path.

So, I, tirelessly, kept preparing.

I pursued further postgraduate education. I continued learning on my own. I read books in all walks of life, studied, gained experience, and tried to go the extra mile in everything I do. I believed that every additional qualification, every book I read, every skill I acquired, and every extra effort I made was another step forward. Even if nobody observed it at the time!

Perhaps I was building a road without realizing it. And I assumed that, eventually, that road would take me somewhere.

But life has a strange way of breaking the equations we create in our minds. As if it wants to prove to us that the results are not in our hands, even when the equation is, indisputably, correct.  

It tells us that effort doesn’t necessarily lead to recognition.

Experience doesn’t necessarily lead to consideration.

Knowledge doesn’t necessarily lead to opportunity.

And merit, unfortunately, doesn’t necessarily lead to advancement.

There are moments when I look back at everything I have invested in myself: the years of learning, the sacrifices, the experiences, and the constant determination to become better; and I find myself asking a painful question: What if none of it was enough?

What if all those years of preparation don’t lead me anywhere?What if I have been moving all this time, only to discover that I am still standing in the same place?

That, perhaps, is where the feeling of being trapped truly begins.

Not because I stopped trying.

But because I kept trying.

I kept moving, learning, improving, and preparing for a future that I assumed would eventually reveal itself to me.

Yet here I am, looking ahead and struggling to see the road. No certainty about what comes next. No clear understanding of where I am heading. And perhaps the most unsettling realization is that some of the most important decisions affecting my life are not entirely mine to make.

I can decide to learn, but I cannot decide who will recognize what I have learned. I can decide to work harder, but I cannot decide who will appreciate the effort. I can prepare myself for an opportunity, but I cannot force the opportunity to appear.

And that is when the illusion of complete freedom begins to fade.

The real problem may not be the choices we make. Perhaps it is the choices we never had the opportunity to make ourselves. The choices that circumstances, people, timing, and forces beyond our control seem to make on our behalf.

Not because we lacked the courage to choose.

Not because we lacked the will.

But because, sometimes, the path changes before we even realize that we have arrived at a crossroads.

Perhaps that is why I feel trapped.

I have spent years believing that if I made the right choices, worked hard enough, and prepared myself well enough, I would eventually reach the destination I was trying to reach.

But perhaps life was never a straight road. Perhaps all this time, while I thought I was choosing my destination, I was simply responding to roads that appeared before me.

And now, standing here, surrounded by invisible walls, I find myself asking a different question.

Not, “Why am I trapped?”

But:

“Which of these walls were built by circumstances beyond my control…and which ones were built by my own fear, expectations, and assumptions?”

Because perhaps that is where freedom truly begins.

Not when all the walls disappear.

Not when every path becomes available.

And not when life finally gives us everything we believe we deserve.

Perhaps freedom begins with the moment we stop waiting for someone else to recognize our value, determine our direction, or open the next door for us.

Perhaps freedom begins when we finally recognize the walls.

Because an invisible prison cannot be escaped!

But once you can see the walls, perhaps you can begin to search for a door.

Sherif Benhawy

**Late night urge to write.