When You Just Want to Know It'll All Be OK
Finding Peace and Purpose When the Future Remains Unknown
My Life Is Full of Uncertainty Right Now
My life is full of uncertainty right now. Not in a "cue dramatic movie trailer" kind of way. More in a "Wow, there are a lot of important things in motion, and none of them have an ending yet" kind of way.
There's the book I'm working on.
I'd love to know if people will read it once it's finished. If it'll provide the support and inspiration I hope it will. If it'll end up highlighted and dog-eared instead of gathering dust on some bookshelf somewhere.
There's my coaching practice.
Every year brings its own flavor of unknowns when it comes to growth. I'd be lying if I said I didn't sometimes wish for a neat little forecast that says, "Here's exactly how your business will grow this year."
Oh, and because I'm not just "all work and no play," there's my love life, which I'm now ready to reopen.
Will I find my person? Because I'm so over kissing frogs. Is there someone out there who can handle my blend of brain geek, intuitive, and human? (Because I'm also done contorting myself to fit someone else. Thank God.)
I know that each step, each conversation, each opportunity, and each "Well, that was unexpected" moment is part of the fun. But I still want to know how it all turns out.
Of course I do.
I want certainty.
Certainty in the Cards
Okay, I'm going to get vulnerable right now.
Did I need that disclaimer?
Probably not, but that's my dear old brain kicking in: Share that you're being vulnerable so others won't whisper behind your back about how weird you are.
I'm an intuitive. Which means that in times of uncertainty, when I want to know the end of the story, I'll reach for my cards.
Sometimes I pull them for guidance about what's right in front of me. Sometimes I'm looking for comfort. And sometimes, if I'm honest, I'm secretly hoping the cards will turn into a crystal ball and:
- Show me the future.
- Tell me it all works out.
- Let me peek at the ending so I can take a deep breath.
With the cards laid out in front of me, I look at the images and words and tap into what's coming up for me. Sometimes what I get is rooted in my own confirmation bias, dressed up as this must mean... or oh, that's a sign.
Even though I absolutely know that's not what they're designed for.
They're fun tools for triggering insight and guidance in the present, not official mandates from the Future Department. Regardless, it's nice to walk away with some feeling of certainty and shoulders that are no longer serving as earrings.
When Reality Doesn't Line Up the Way It Was Supposed To
Here's where it gets interesting.
There have been times when things didn't go as planned—or as the cards "said" they would.
The launch of a service that felt perfectly aligned flops.
The thing I poured my heart into lands with far less fanfare than predicted.
That's when frustration and deflation enter the scene.
Not so much with the cards, but with the gap between what I thought was going to happen and what actually happened.
That's when I hear myself ask:
What does it take to find the secret sauce?
The secret sauce for a book that finds its people.
The secret sauce for making sure every product and service I offer is a huge success.
The secret sauce for finding my match, because I have a brand-new picker. (Read into that: lots of self-reflection, soul-searching, and learning from past relationships.)
Underneath all of that is the very human question:
Will it all work out? Will I be okay?
That's really what I want to know.
Not every detail.
Not a guarantee that I'll never make a misstep.
Just some reassurance that the way I'm living, loving, and creating is leading somewhere worth all the time and energy.
And yes, I'd like that answer before I get there, please.
My Brain Is an Overprotective Storyteller
Here's the part where my brain likes to step in with its dramatic monologue whenever uncertainty is afoot.
Cue the inner voice.
Mine has a name: Bitty Btch. And she's part of an entire committee called the Itty-Bitty Shtty Committee.
So when I'm standing in a genuinely unknown place, she starts yammering away:
- "This is unknown territory, and it's dangerous."
- "You're going to fall and fail."
- "You're going to end up alone, broke, and eating cereal for dinner forever."
Not exactly a soothing bedtime story.
And I don't even eat cereal.
Thankfully, thanks in part to my obsession with brain geekery, her voice is no longer the loudest one in the room.
That's when I remind myself that this is my brain trying to protect me.
It's doing its job: scanning for possible danger and filling in the blanks when it doesn't have all the information.
Brains are not fans of blank pages.
They like patterns.
They like endings.
When there's a big unknown, the brain goes rifling through old files: past pain, old disappointments, things we've seen happen to other people, and all the "be careful" messages we've picked up along the way. Then it uses that pile of memories to predict what might happen next.
It's not seeing the future.
It's recycling the past and presenting it as likely.
That's old survival wiring at work, and it tends to spotlight the scariest possibilities first, just in case.
From a survival standpoint, that makes sense.
While that overprotective storyteller isn't trying to ruin everything, it's definitely a total buzzkill if I let that voice drive.
The Evidence Folder That Lives in My Brain
When that voice starts delivering its dramatic speech about danger and doom, I pause long enough to catch it.
Then I switch from the folder that holds all my failed attempts and disastrous relationship stories to a different folder:
My evidence folder.
I think about all the times I've stepped into unknown territory before.
The career changes.
The moves.
The programs I created from scratch.
The conversations I was terrified to have.
I remember the things that didn't work out the way I wanted—and how I'm still here, still building, still loving, often with wisdom I couldn't have gained any other way.
Evidence is like a deep breath for my nervous system.
It's not pretending everything has always gone smoothly.
It's reminding my brain that I've made it through a lot of "I have no idea how this will go" moments and somehow ended up okay on the other side.
My brain can't argue with that.
It might still prefer a guaranteed path, but it relaxes a little when I start digging through all the evidence I've collected over the years.
Turning "Secret Sauce" Into an Experiment
From there, I can loosen my grip on the idea of a secret sauce.
Instead of imagining there's one magic formula out there that I'll either find or miss forever, I picture my life as a giant laboratory where I get to experiment.
I try things in my business that stretch me a bit but still feel like me.
I play with how I share my work, how I structure my days, and which offers fit my energy.
I pay attention to which conversations light me up and which ones drain me.
Some experiments turn out beautifully.
Some are a clear, "Yeah... we won't be doing that again."
Some are slow simmers: Let's give this a little more time and see.
The important thing is not treating every outcome like a verdict on my worth or my future.
Instead, I get curious about the data I'm receiving.
Because you know what?
That data is certainty.
Living Without the Spoiler (Reluctantly, Sometimes)
I'd love to tell you I'm totally chill about uncertainty now.
I'm not.
There are still days when I'd happily sit down with a crystal ball and say:
"Can you just show me how this all plays out so I can relax?"
But more and more, I'm learning that while I can't have a spoiler, I can have something even better.
I can trust that I'll be okay because I know who I am and what I'm capable of.
I can notice when my brain is recycling old fear and gently name it for what it is:
Fear.
Not prophecy.
I can come back to the evidence that I've walked through the unknown before.
I can keep treating my choices like experiments instead of do-or-die final results.
I still don't know exactly how my book will land.
I'll have to wait and see once it's finished.
My coaching practice is growing, and even though the end result is still unclear, that's okay.
And as it relates to my love life, I don't really need to know how or when my person will show up.
I just need to keep putting myself out there in ways that feel right.
So until the uncertain reveals itself in its own time, I'll keep writing, keep coaching, and keep standing in who I am.
If You're Living in Uncertainty
And you're wondering if it will all work out—if you'll be okay—first and foremost, try not to listen to that doom-and-gloom voice in your head.
It will try to convince you that peril lies ahead every time because its main objective is survival, not success.
Take a deep breath.
Then take another.
If you're still feeling the topsy-turvy effects of uncertainty, take a few more until you feel your shoulders release and your belly soften.
That voice can wreak havoc on the nervous system, making it difficult to remember any of your evidence.
Please remember one thing:
Uncertainty isn't going away.
Learning to navigate it is all about the framing.
Frame it in a way that serves you rather than deflates you.
I know this may sound weird (oh goodness, there's another disclaimer), but uncertainty, when viewed through the lens of curiosity and data gathering, can actually be kind of fun.
It can be a pretty interesting place to hang out.
Don't take my word for it, though.
Experiment.
Until next time, I'm sending you lots of peace, love, and light.
Pam
