My Self-Serve Life

(aka how fro-yo taught me more about choices than any classroom ever did)

Shoutout Yopop, my favorite place in Chapel Hill.

There’s something weirdly intimate about self-serve fro-yo. You walk in thinking it’ll be lighthearted — just a sweet treat, a quick fix. But then you’re staring down twelve machines, all with names like “Cake Batter Blast” or "Vivacous Vanilla,” and suddenly you're paralyzed by choice. You could go classic. You could try something new. Either way, you’re the one pulling the lever. And what you choose? That’s what you get.

I am deeply addicted to self-serve fro-yo. It’s not just the sugar or the fake coffee flavoring, though those don’t hurt. It’s the act of choosing. The tiny power trip of having full control over what goes into my cup and how much of it I want. Chocolate base? Sure. Tart swirl? Let’s get weird. A little of both? Why not. No one’s stopping me. Except, maybe, myself.

And that’s kind of the thing: The more I put in the cup, the heavier it is. The heavier it is, the more it costs. Sometimes it’s delicious. Sometimes it’s a mess. And sometimes I just can’t finish it.

You’d think I’d learn after the fifth time I built a fro-yo mountain I didn’t actually want. But no — I keep coming back, convinced that if I just choose better, I’ll get it right this time.

It’s a little too on the nose, honestly. Because life kinda works the same way.

We're constantly choosing. Our classes, our relationships, our side hustles, our habits, our identities. And every choice comes with flavor. Some sweet, some strange, some we regret immediately. Some we carry for longer than we meant to — just because we don’t know how to let them go.

I’ve said yes to things that looked good on the outside — jobs, projects, roles — that ended up draining me more than they fulfilled me. I’ve taken on leadership titles because I felt like I should. Because I thought being busy meant being successful. I’ve overcommitted to people and undercommitted to myself. I’ve said “I’m fine” when I absolutely wasn’t, just to keep things moving. Just to keep the cup from tipping.

I’ve also made smaller choices that changed everything — like starting a blog for class, even when it felt silly. Like taking a day off when I really needed it. Like deciding not to explain myself for every little boundary I set.

Some choices made me feel powerful. Some made me feel lost. Some I still carry in quiet ways — in the way I double check before saying yes, or pause before pouring more into my already-full plate.

There’s this illusion that if we pick the “right” things — the perfect combo of responsibilities, people, passions, and self-care routines — we’ll be full but not overwhelmed. Satisfied but not weighed down. But that’s not always how it works.

Sometimes the thing that used to taste good doesn’t anymore.Sometimes you say yes to too much and end up burnt out.Sometimes you think you’re building something fun, and it turns out to be more than you can handle.

But sometimes you try something random and it hits just right. You surprise yourself. You find a new favorite. You realize you didn’t need to follow the rules or do what everyone else was doing. You just needed to build your own weird little cup and enjoy it for what it is.

I’ve stopped trying to perfect it. The fro-yo, the life, all of it. Some days I keep it simple. Some days I’m chaotic with sprinkles. But every time I fill up my cup, I try to ask myself: is this mine? Is this what I want?

And if the answer’s yes, even if it costs a whopping 10 dollars, I don’t feel bad at all.