<center><h1>The Passenger Problem</h1></center> ### On the Open Road You’re staring out the passenger window, headlights catching fragments of road signs. You don’t know exactly where you’re headed, someone else decided. Your input wasn’t required. Your life, for now, is quietly humming along in the dark. You hear the rush of cars passing by and wonder if those people, like you, have any idea where they're headed. Or, are they simply tolerating the drive too uncertain and resigned to pushback against the the unknown. You feel a vague sense of dread. Life is slipping by just outside the window. Deep down, you know something important is lost, but you can't quite name it. This is your life when you lack agency. This is the passenger problem. ### Whose in the Drivers Seat The Passenger Problem is passivity. As a passenger, you sit in the car while someone else dictates where you go, how fast things progress, the route you take, the music you hear, and what's worth stopping to see. You defer those decisions to others because it's easier. You've been listening to the crowd for so long that thinking for yourself feels foreign. Maybe you've never really done it at all. You might not love the outcomes, but the arrangement is convenient. Letting others make the choices for you removes the responsibility. When things go awry, you have a defense. Your life ends up filled with illusions of choice. Your interests and hobbies are safely mainstream. Your opinions are easy to defend and seldom differ from the majority. When they do you make the *smart* choice not to share them. Your career ruffles no feathers. You'll make time for what you're passionate about when you're' older because that's the right way to do things. You do this enough times and you end up a passenger. Unwilling or maybe even unable to switch seats when it matters most. ### Why We Become Passengers The passenger problem starts young. You're placed in a classroom with as many peers as the school district will allow. The curriculum you consume is meant for even the most average. Your teacher is overwhelmed and puts up stringent rules in order to reign order from childhood chaos. This goes on for a little over decade. Slowly shaping your interactions with authority, society, and your peers. Some of whom seem to do a better job of *sticking it to the man*, but rarely in a way that's anything more than rebellious. Out of school your family tells you that you need to do something with your life, but you're not sure what. Your elders tell you that a well paying job should be your priority. Become a doctor. A lawyer. Something where you control your schedule, plenty of time off, and always in demand. You don't care about any of that right now yet their voices set the tone of your first decisions into adulthood. As you get older you start to worry about **the bills**. You need to pay back your student loans. Rent slowly climbs higher and higher. You don't make much so you choose between finding a new job or acting in whatever way gets you promoted. You find that nodding along with the right people, keeping ideas to yourself, and not making a fuss keep a healthy amount of attention on you. Your passivity becomes collaboration. People can count on you to follow along. You listen well to direction. You're so easy to work with. Then it happens, a flash of agency. Enough following the leader. It's time to get that promotion. You work out a plan with your manager, each step planned far into the future giving you the best shot possible. And you get it. Some congratulatory slacks. A few likes on LinkedIn. A 10% pay bump to boot. Excitement fades and reality settles in. You calculate how many more times you'd need to do this to have a good retirement only to realize you need another five promotions before any of this matters. You continue your passivity. You can't risk rocking the boat now. Your life outside of work is more of the same. You watch the right shows. You have a favorite sports team or reality TV show. You dress the same way the world does. You don't make waves when the restaurant messes up your order. You take your meal in quiet frustration, swallowing a piece of yourself with every bite, before thanking the waiter and leaving a generous tip. You get in your Uber. He drives too fast and won't stop talking about Bitcoin. You say nothing. You're just a passenger. ### Agency as the Driver's Seat > Agency is the bridge between thought and action. Explicitly when those actions are aligned with one's self-interest, goals, or allow them to assert their presence and advocate for themselves. Agency isn't reckless. It's not bullying the world into doing things you're way. It's an expression of your identity, responsibility, and purposeful living. It's choosing intentionally, even when it's hard or uncertain. When you step into drivers seat you take ownership. Your decisions, successes, and failures belong to you. And with that ownership comes peace of mind. You're no longer haunted by what-ifs because you don't let them slip by. You set clear boundaries. Not everyone gets to ride along and those who do need to respect your space. They take their trash with them when they go. It's your ride, not their play thing. Agency means deciding clearly and authentically. It's not about always knowing exactly where you'll end up or even where you're going, but choosing the path for yourself. ### The Cost of Riding Shotgun There’s a particular kind of ache that creeps in when you’re a passenger in your own life. It’s subtle at first, a restlessness, a quiet anxiety, the sinking feeling right before you fall asleep. You’re moving, but you’re not going anywhere you care about. You’re watching your life unfold from the side window, powerless to change the direction. You spend more time wondering why you’re doing what you’re doing—or why you’re not doing what you should—than actually living in alignment with who you are. You tell yourself you’ll speak up next time, make a change next month, take control next year. But each time you wait, it gets harder to remember what you even wanted in the first place. Passengers live in a vicious cycle. The more they give up control, the further they drift from their identity. Their values become expectations; their self-image, a reflection of what others want. Misaligned and unfulfilled, they seek cheap dopamine in social media and late nights. There are practical costs, too. Your career stalls despite doing everything right. You can't live on youthful energy forever. The lack of fulfillment leads to burnout, yet you're so far removed from your desired life you don't know how to course-correct. Your love life becomes strained, after all they are more convenience than desire. Sticking up for yourself and expressing what you want is too costly. You took too long to set expectations. Doing so now would be a betrayal of the terms you set quietly over the years. The emotional cost runs even deeper. You envy the people who take risks, who say what they mean, who walk away when something isn’t right. You resent the ones who act without waiting for permission. And beneath it all is a quiet, bitter question you carry everywhere: *Why didn’t I choose differently?* Because one day, you wake up and realize you’ve spent thirty, forty, fifty years alive, but barely any of them as yourself. But it doesn't have to stay that way. The moment you decide to get in the driver’s seat, everything starts to change. ### What Driving Actually Looks Like When you drive, you're in control. You choose where you're headed, what you listen to, how fast you go, who you let in. Sure, you'll consult your phone now and then to check traffic and directions, but that's good practice not a lack of control. You learn to set boundaries, calmly but clearly. You let the world know where you stand. You might work late, but only if it means leaving early on Friday. Negotiation, after all, is part of driving your own life. Your career is driven by your identity not your paycheck—though, ideally, the two are aligned. When friends or family question your choices, you don’t hesitate. You respond: _I’ll change course when I’m ready—not when you’re uncomfortable with where I’m headed._ You speak up even when it’s hard. Your goal in life is not to people please or keep the boat from rocking, it's living true to yourself. You won't be driving all the time. None of us are. We live in a society after all. Sometimes you’ll yield, compromise, or ride shotgun for a while. That’s not weakness. That’s life. The goal isn’t to bulldoze everyone around you. It’s to choose your direction often enough that you never lose sight of who you want to become. And it starts small. You send the wrong order back at a restaurant. You decline an invitation you don’t want instead of hedging. You plan the night out instead of waiting for someone else to do it. These aren’t acts of bravery. They’re everyday decisions to express yourself. The more you practice, the easier it gets. People start to see you as you want to be seen. Your nights end with smiles, not regret. ### The Courage of Agency You’ve heard what agency looks like. Now it’s time to talk about what makes it possible. Agency takes courage. No one can say otherwise. And I hope, by now, you understand the alternative is much, much worse. The discomfort of speaking up, setting a boundary, or taking action isn’t nearly as painful as the weight of years spent wondering what your life could have been if you’d just tried. In your way is anxiety, doubt, and resistance. Your brain will put up all kinds of walls to keep you "safe." It doesn’t want to risk discomfort or rejection. It doesn’t understand that choosing discomfort today is the price of freedom tomorrow. But here’s the truth: when you feel that friction—when fear, tension, and discomfort show up—you’re on the right track. Those feelings aren’t a sign to stop. They’re a signal that you’re finally moving toward something meaningful. Courage isn’t something you’re born with. It’s a muscle you build one decision at a time. You’ve already done it without realizing: you asked for help when it felt uncomfortable; you said no when it would’ve been easier to say yes; you ignored the tipping sign; you sent back a poorly made drink. Each of those moments mattered. Because every time you acted in spite of fear, the fear shrank. Every time you moved forward, you became more yourself. That’s the cost of agency. Not fear itself, but the willingness to feel it and move anyway. And the reward? Your freedom. Your clarity. Your life. ### Driver or Passenger Before you close this page, I want you to ask yourself a simple question: **Are you driving—or have you handed someone else the keys?** Think back over the last week. How many moments can you count where you stayed quiet, nodded along, or waited for someone else to decide? How many times did you choose the route you’re on? If you’re honest, you’ll probably remember moments where you let someone else steer. Times you swallowed your opinion, deferred to the crowd, or said yes when you wanted to say no. That’s not failure. It’s a signal. A reminder that, at any moment, you can choose differently. So, ask yourself: **Whose route am I following—and why haven’t I chosen my own?** You don’t have to take control of your entire life overnight. You just need to take the wheel, even for one decision. --- “If you're ready to understand how deep this Passenger Problem goes—and what your life might look like when you finally take the wheel—I dive even deeper [here (link)].”