There's a funny thing we tend to do when something in our life starts changing.
We immediately want to know.
What comes next?
Maybe something at work isn't working anymore.
A relationship has changed.
And you are questioning a decision you made.
A few years ago.
A routine that used to fit your life suddenly doesn't.
Or maybe nothing dramatic has happened at all.
We just have this.
Quiet feeling that something is different.
And almost immediately,
The questions begin.
Okay,
So what am I going to do about this?
What is the plan?
What should I change?
What am I supposed to do next?
I know this one very well because I really like a plant.
I like knowing where I'm going.
I like knowing what I'm doing when I get there.
Preferably,
I'd also like a reservation and decent parking.
But sometimes we start making plans before we actually have enough information to make one.
We confuse the discomfort of not knowing.
With a problem that needs to be solved.
Those aren't necessarily the same thing.
Sometimes you really do need to make a decision.
Sometimes something needs your attention right now.
But sometimes you are simply in the middle of something changing.
In the middle is.
.
.
This is uncomfortable.
You know what used to work and you're beginning to realize that it doesn't quite fit anymore.
Like a round peg in a square hole.
You don't necessarily know what will replace it,
But that's usually the point when we start searching for clarity.
We make lists.
Okay,
I make lists.
We ask everybody we know what they think.
We Google things,
We ask AI,
We listen to podcasts,
We reorganize everything that probably did not need reorganizing.
We get very busy.
Trying to figure out the answer.
And there's nothing wrong with gathering information or asking for advice.
The problem is that when we're desperate for certainty,
We can mistake having an answer.
For having the right answer.
Those are very different things.
One of the ideas I've returned to again and again in my own mindfulness and journaling practice is that we already possess more wisdom than we sometimes give ourselves credit for.
The problem isn't always that we don't know.
Sometimes there's simply too much noise to hear what we know.
That was a big part of why I developed my own mindful journaling practice in the first place.
Journaling became a way for me to get underneath.
All of the mental chatter and outside opinions and expectations and hear my own voice again.
Not magically knowing the future.
I haven't figured out that trick,
But if I do,
I'll let you know.
There's a difference between knowing exactly what's going to happen and knowing yourself well enough to recognize the next right step when it appears.
That second kind of knowing is much more useful.
So when you're in one of those periods when you don't know what's next,
Instead of immediately asking,
What should I do?
Try giving yourself a little room first.
You might begin with something really simple.
Take a breath.
Notice what happens in your body when you think.
I need to figure this out.
Maybe there's tension in your shoulders.
Maybe your stomach tightens.
Maybe your thoughts start speeding up.
Maybe you immediately start running through 12 different scenarios.
I'm the Thag Girl.
You don't have to fix any of that.
Just notice it.
Then try changing the question.
Instead of,
What do I need to figure out?
Ask yourself.
What do I know right now?
That is a much smaller and manageable question.
And smaller questions can be incredibly useful when your brain is trying to solve your entire life before lunch.
Maybe what you know is that you're tired.
Maybe you know you don't want to keep doing something the way you've been doing it.
Maybe you know that one option feels wrong,
Even though you can't explain why.
Maybe you know you're not ready to decide.
That counts.
We have a tendency to dismiss.
Those smaller bits.
Of information because they don't give us the whole plan.
But clarity doesn't always arrive as a complete set of instructions.
Sometimes it arrives one piece at a time.
And this is where stillness comes in.
Can be very useful.
And when I say stillness,
I don't mean you have to sit cross-legged somewhere for 45 minutes waiting for the universe to send you a memo.
Stillness can be a walk without a podcast.
Stillness can be.
Five minutes with your journal.
It can be sitting in your car before you go inside.
It can be drinking your coffee without also checking email,
Reading the news,
And mentally planning Tuesday.
The point isn't to become perfect quiet.
The point is to create enough space.
To notice what's already there.
One of my own inspirations that I come back to is stillness allows wisdom.
I like the word allows.
It doesn't say stillness creates wisdom.
It doesn't say you need to become wiser.
It says stillness.
Allows it.
There's a big difference.
When we stop demanding.
An immediate answer.
Sometimes we can finally hear the information that was getting drownded out by the demands.
And sometimes,
After all of that,
The answer is still there.
I don't know.
That's okay,
Too.
I don't know yet can be a perfectly responsible answer.
It doesn't mean you're stuck.
It doesn't mean you're avoiding your life,
And it certainly doesn't mean that everyone else received some instruction manual that you somehow missed.
It may simply mean that you're still gathering information.
From your circumstances,
From your experience,
And from yourself.
So if you're in one of those in-between places right now.
Here's something I invite you to try.
For the next few days,
Don't ask yourself to solve the whole enchilada.
Give yourself 10 quiet minutes and ask.
Three questions.
What do I know now?
What am I trying to force myself to know?
And what could I leave unanswered for a little while longer?
Then see what comes up.
You don't have to turn what you write into a decision.
You don't even have to do anything with it.
Just listen.
Because there are times when moving forward is exactly what we need.
And there are other times when the wisest thing we can do is stop rushing ourselves towards an answer simply because uncertainty makes us uncomfortable.
You don't have to have the whole plan to trust yourself.
Sometimes self-trust looks like knowing the next step.
And sometimes it looks like trusting yourself enough to wait until you do.
