Years ago, I read The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. It is a novel published in 1963, but one passage has stayed with me ever since.

In the story, the main character, Esther Greenwood, imagines her future as a green fig tree. On every branch hangs a different fig, each representing a different life she could live. One fig is a happy marriage and children. Another is becoming a famous poet. Another is a successful professor. There are countless possibilities, all hanging within sight. That’s the story.

I think Esther Greenwood… is simply problematic. She can’t choose. She is so afraid of picking the wrong future that she becomes frozen, watching the figs eventually shrivel and fall.

For years, that fig tree analogy made me anxious.
My best friend never became a writer. She became a psychologist. My mother never pursued a master’s degree in engineering. My grandmother spent most of her life cooking meals for my grandfather.

And then there was me.

What if I never became a reporter? What if I lived in a large city? What if I was richer, smarter, more talented, or somehow more special? I have always wanted to see Europe. I wanted to become a musician. I wanted to learn pottery and spend more time making art.

Sometimes I wondered whether choosing something different years ago would have led me to a better life today.

Looking back, I think that is why I related so much to Esther Greenwood. In my interpretation, she was never satisfied with where she was because she was always imagining where she could have been.

But recently, I started seeing the fig tree differently.
We are not trees. We are not rooted in one place for the rest of our lives.

People can change careers. They can move to a new city. They can return to school at 50, start a business at 60, or discover a new passion at 70!

I realized that life is not one decision followed by a lifetime of consequences.

It is a series of seasons, each giving us opportunities to grow in different directions.

And the saddest thing is not choosing the wrong fig.
The saddest thing is being so afraid of choosing paths that you never lived any of them at all.

There will always be another version of ourselves waiting in the future. There will always be more things to learn, more places to visit, and more dreams to pursue.

My mother was happy. She still became an engineer after being a housewife for eight years! My grandmother was happy. She spent nearly 70 years married to my grandfather. My best friend still reads novels and still hopes to write one someday.
I think I am okay.

Maybe I am missing out on something right now. Maybe there is another version of me somewhere living a completely different life.

But this is the life I have.

This is where I am.

And for the first time in a long time, that feels enough.
I still want to grow. I still hope there are many more figs waiting for me in the future.

For now, I’m content with the one in my hand.
It will be fine, I hope so.

Commentary by Julia Magsombol