Why Uncertainty Is So Exhausting
Finding steady ground when you can’t see ten steps ahead.
The Dark Hedges, Northern Ireland
A friend recently asked if I wanted to go kayaking or canyoneering while we’re in Northern Ireland this fall.
My immediate reaction was, Hell yeah! Then I thought, oh, wait, that may not be realistic for me.
I’ll only be about five and a half months post-op from a hip arthroscopy by then. Maybe my hip will feel great. Maybe it won’t. Maybe I’ll be capable of doing everything. Maybe I’ll still have limitations.
I honestly don’t know. That uncertainty hit me hard.
The funny thing is, I’ve actually been to Northern Ireland during this exact week of the year. I know how cold, windy, and unpredictable Northern Ireland can be. It may not even be possible because of the weather.
Giant’s Causeway, Northern Ireland
And yet my brain still wants an answer right now.
Will I be able to do it?
Should I commit?
Will my body be ready?
Should I say yes?
Should I say no?
I don’t know.
That simple phrase, “I don’t know,” can be surprisingly exhausting.
Because not knowing takes up a tremendous amount of mental space.
As humans, we love predictability.
We love knowing what comes next. We love routines, plans, calendars, and having a general idea of where our life is headed. I think we underestimate how much our nervous systems eat that stuff up.
Predictability feels safe. Knowing where we stand feels safe.
Then something happens and suddenly the picture changes.
An injury.
A diagnosis.
A job loss.
A relationship changes.
A phone call you weren’t expecting.
The future you thought you were moving toward suddenly becomes blurry. You can no longer see ten steps ahead. Sometimes you can barely see the next one.
Our brains immediately start trying to solve the problem. It starts looking for information to try to make a plan. It wants to predict an outcome. Trying to regain some sense of certainty. When we don’t know what’s coming next, our nervous systems keeps scanning. No wonder we feel tired and find it hard to relax.
I’ve noticed that during uncertain seasons, I naturally start leaning more heavily on small simple routines. My morning coffee ritual, exercising, even going for a walk. Even the smallest routines can create a sense of comfort. These things become little anchors that remind my nervous systems that not everything is uncertain.
Some things are still steady, still predictable. Some things are still safe.
Maybe that’s the work to focus on during uncertain seasons. Not trying to force ourselves to have answers we simply don’t have yet. But learning how to create little pockets of safety while we wait.
Trusting that we don’t need the entire map today.
Just the teeniest tiniest next step.
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Before you move on, grab a notebook and make two columns.
Column One: What feels uncertain right now?
Write down whatever comes up.
Your health.
A relationship.
Your finances.
A decision you need to make.
A goal you’re working toward.
Get it out of your head and onto paper.
Then create a second column.
Column Two: What is still predictable, steady, or safe?
What can you count on today?
What routines support you?
Who can you call?
What feels grounding?
What do you know to be true right now?
The goal isn’t to eliminate uncertainty.
It’s to remind yourself that while some things look blurry, not everything is.
And sometimes that’s enough to help us take the next step.
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If this resonated with you, I’d love to have you here. Every week I write about ambition, identity, and nervous system regulation as different ways of building a life that’s sustainable enough to enjoy.