Give Time Time
On uncertainty, growth, and learning to trust the process.
A couple of years ago, I booked a trip from New York to California by myself.
No family. No elaborate itinerary.
Just me.
At the time, I couldn’t fully explain why I felt so strongly about going. I just knew I needed a change of scenery and a break from the routine I had grown used to.
Looking back, the trip had very little to do with California.
It was one of the first times I realized I could trust myself.
Since then, life has given me plenty of opportunities to practice that lesson. Some of them were exciting. Others were not.
Over the past several years, I’ve experienced career changes I didn’t anticipate. I’ve navigated the end of relationships that shaped much of my adult life. I’ve dealt with health concerns that introduced uncertainty into places where I once felt confident. I’ve struggled with anxiety and depression and learned that healing is rarely as straightforward as we’d like it to be.
None of those experiences came with a roadmap.
What surprised me most was how much of adulthood seems to involve learning how to move forward without one.
I used to think progress would feel obvious.
You set a goal. You work hard. Things fall into place.
Sometimes that’s true. A lot of the time, it isn’t.
Sometimes you’re applying for jobs and hearing nothing back.
Sometimes you’re sitting in a doctor’s office waiting for answers.
Sometimes you’re grieving a relationship while trying to build a future that no longer looks the way you expected.
Sometimes you’re doing all the right things and still wondering if they’re leading anywhere.
Those seasons tested me more than the successful ones ever did.
I remember attending a professional development program at Cornell by myself. Most people were there with colleagues from their organizations. I wasn’t.
At the time, I was trying to figure out my next chapter professionally. Walking into that room alone felt uncomfortable.
But I went anyway.
Not because I felt fearless.
Because I didn’t want uncertainty to make decisions for me.
The same was true when I pursued graduate school. And later, when I made an overnight decision to continue my education again on a random day.
None of those decisions came with guarantees.
I wasn’t promised a promotion, a new title, or a perfect outcome.
I just knew that if I kept waiting until everything felt certain, I would be waiting forever.
That’s where “give time time” came from—one of my favorite lines that continues to carry me.
Not as advice, but as a reminder to myself.
A reminder that not everything needs to be solved immediately.
A reminder that growth can be happening even when it doesn’t feel obvious.
A reminder that life is not a race to the next milestone.
Some of the things I worried about eventually worked themselves out. Some didn’t. Some turned into opportunities I never would have predicted. Others taught me lessons I didn’t particularly want to learn but needed anyway.
The older I get, the more I realize that resilience is less about having all the answers and more about continuing to show up when you don’t.
It’s trusting yourself enough to take the next step, even if you can’t see the entire path.
It’s believing that today’s effort still matters, even when tomorrow is unclear.
It’s understanding that uncertainty is not always a sign that something is wrong. Sometimes, it’s simply a sign that the story isn’t finished yet.
So whenever I find myself wanting immediate answers, immediate results, or immediate certainty, I come back to the same reminder:
Give time time.
Not because time fixes everything.
But because some things can only be understood in hindsight.
I’ve spent so much of my life waiting for answers. Waiting for opportunities. Waiting for clarity.
What I didn’t realize was that life was still happening while I waited.
The growth.
The healing.
The lessons.
The becoming.
None of it was wasted time.
If I could go back and talk to the version of myself boarding that flight to California, I’d tell her she’ll be okay, even though it doesn’t feel like it. More than okay, actually.
I’d tell her that some things won’t go according to plan.
That there will be doubts, uncertainty, setbacks, and days when she questions herself.
I’d tell her that some of the things she’s worried about won’t matter as much as she thinks they will. And some of the things she can’t even imagine yet will end up changing her life.
I’d tell her to keep going.
To be patient.
To keep taking chances on herself.
To keep showing up, even when she doesn’t have all the answers.
And one day, she’ll realize that the life she was so worried about figuring out was unfolding the entire time.
