Living With Uncertainty — What I've Learned So Far

A personal reflection on what it actually feels like to live with uncertainty — when life is changing faster than you can process it, and the questions have no answers yet.

Some questions can’t be answered yet, no matter how many times we turn them over in our mind. And constantly searching for a solution only creates anxiety.

Maybe you're trying to figure out a new career direction. Maybe a relationship ended and your daily life suddenly looks different. Maybe you're somewhere between who you were and whoever comes next, because you feel the need to completely reinvent yourself. Or maybe it's all of those at once, like it is for me right now.

This can be a phase where you're living with plenty of ideas and dreams in your head, as well as plenty of unanswered questions, doubts and fears. Or even worse, with no dreams at all. I say worse because I truly believe we all need at least some dreams in our lives.

At the moment, I’m navigating a separation. Returning from maternity leave without a clear picture of what comes next. Questions about work, dreams of a new career, and open questions surrounding my current solopreneur company. Wondering where home will be in a few months.

So I know this kind of uncertainty is exhausting, and lonely too. It carries grief and anxiety, but part of it is simply the mental weight of carrying open questions while still trying to live your everyday life and plan your future. Your mind keeps trying to figure things out and come up with a plan, because uncertainty doesn’t feel safe.

When you're living in this in-between phase and feeling a bit stuck, it feels frustrating and discouraging to read advice like:

1. Figure out what you really want
   (well, thank you!)

2. Think of what you enjoyed doing as a child if direction feels unclear

   (quite many things… reading, playing, acting, sports, playing piano, puzzles, watching videos…???)

3. Make a plan

   (hmmm… I want to put my life together in a way that allows me to truly enjoy it; to have enough time for my children, hobbies, friends, myself, relationship, household responsibilities, and all the other obligations of everyday life, while still earning enough money to live comfortably and occasionally go on holidays. And most importantly, to be healthy, feel energized and do work that genuinely inspires me and feels meaningful.)

4. Focus on what you can control

   (Yes, I’ve learned this lesson. A couple of times... And in the end, it’s really a matter of what I actually want to put my energy into.)

5. Trust the process

   (uhhh… sometimes this can be really hard.)

I admit it. There’s truth in all of that advice. But none of it really addresses what it feels like living in the middle of in-between, something unfinished. Many of the writings related to beeing stuck or in uncertainty are addressed to give solutions to somehow unsolve this phase. To find the answers and go pass. And sometimes, reading this kind of advice can leave you feeling even worse, like you’re somehow failing at this phase because you feel even more overwhelmed afterward. So I believe all of that is not the right approach for this phase. At least not at the beginning, when you’ve just stepped into the threshold.

So this text is less about advice and more about what I’ve noticed while actually living through these in-between phases myself. And because I truly know how lonely these phases can feel, if this makes you feel even a little less alone, I’m genuinely glad.

Not every question can be answered immediately

As I said at the very beginning, sometimes it helps to acknowledge that not all open questions have an answer right now, or even next week. Sometimes you reach a point in life where the information simply isn’t available yet. The problem isn’t that you’re not trying hard enough or that you haven’t found the right angle. The answer just doesn’t exist yet.

And it’s not necessarily about being too afraid to move (as you may have heard). Sometimes feeling stuck is simply about not knowing which direction to take, while wanting the next step to feel right and aligned, even if it feels scary.

In this in-between phase it’s good to remind ourselves, that this is not for finding the right answers and making a clear plan. In a way, this phase is more that we are learning to tolerate uncertainty and open questions.

Choosing an answer just to stop the feeling of having none

At some point, when uncertainty gets intense enough, the temptation is to just pick something. Any answer. A decision, a plan, a direction… anything to make the open-endedness stop. There is even psychological term for this. It’s called premature closure. The moment we force resolution before we’re ready, simply because the discomfort has become too hard to sit with.

But a decision made from anxiety doesn’t always resolve the anxiety. Sometimes it just gives it a new address. I belive this is one of the ways we end up being somewhere we didn’t actually want to be. And to end up replaying the same patterns and relearning the same lessons in life.

The threshold is not a waiting room to escape as quickly as possible. And as I write this, I realize I’ve never been very good at waiting. I’m a bit impatient. Maybe that’s also why this phase feels so difficult. But learning to stay with discomfort is where real change happens. So I remind myself not to move through this phase just to get out of it.

Long periods of waiting can turn into paralysis

At the same time, this phase is a double-edged sword. Uncertainty can quietly become an excuse not to move at all. I lived this during my burnout a few years ago.

There is a difference between patience and paralysis. Between sitting with the unknown and postponing your life indefinitely. When everything feels uncertain, it becomes easy to delay every decision.

And that’s not just “you being bad at decision-making.” Stress also narrows your thinking. When uncertainty continues for a long time, your brain shifts into a more protective, survival-oriented state, making it harder to prioritize, think clearly, and make decisions, even small ones.

Over time, this can also lead to decision fatigue. When your mind is constantly evaluating risks, possibilities, and unanswered questions, even everyday choices begin to feel mentally exhausting. You may eventually look up and realize you have been waiting for months, or even years.

That has another kind of cost, too. I’ve realized that waiting slowly erodes your sense of agency. You stop feeling like someone who actively participates in your own life and decisions. And when uncertainty, fear of change, and grief over what is ending are already present, losing agency adds something heavier: a sense of helplessness. You begin to doubt yourself and your ability to move forward. You start losing faith in your own capability.

So the question becomes:

• How do you keep moving while the bigger answers are still unclear?

Usually, in much smaller ways than you think.

And another important question to pay attention to:

• How do you release the quiet stress attached to this phase, even if you haven’t fully acknowledged it yet?

Often, the first step is simply noticing it's there. And then, anything that reminds your nervous system that you're safe, it’s safe to just be. Movement, rest, and sleep are good release for the stress.

A new direction rarely arrives as perfect clarity

A new life direction often begins as a small pull, not a big realization. A bit more energy, a bit more curiosity. Relief, interest. Something that quietly keeps returning to your attention.

Often, it’s less about knowing exactly what you want and more about noticing what feels more true and alive than the alternatives. I’ve noticed it doesn’t feel like tightness in the chest or a knot in the throat, but more like a subtle sense of excitement in the body. Something that genuinely pulls at you a little, beneath the doubts, fears and hesitations and sometimes thoughts of impossibility.

And remember, we don’t need to turn that feeling into a full plan immediately. Usually it’s enough to follow it a little. Try something. Pay attention to the reaction, and then try again.

Movement matters more than perfect certainty

Even small steps toward a new direction help maintain a sense of agency and strengthen your faith in your own capability. A new direction often takes shape through repeated small movements toward what keeps calling you, even while hesitation and doubt are still present. Even while your mind is still searching for the right answer and perfect clarity.

I believe that is why it can feel so hard to simply “trust the process.” There is no clear moment when the process begins, only your decision to engage with it. And there is no clear map of what the process will look like, only your commitment to stay with it. To keep trying, keep exploring, and keep adjusting along the way.

Change can create a new relationship with yourself

Unwanted change doesn’t only take things away. Often, it exposes parts of yourself that were buried beneath old roles, routines, or identities.

Long relationships shape us. Parenthood changes us. Sometimes we look up and realize we have been living inside a version of ourselves that formed around someone else’s rhythm, or an identity we grew into without consciously choosing it. Or perhaps an identity we once chose, but that no longer fits who we are becoming.

When those structures begin to shift, something new becomes possible; the chance to ask, perhaps for the first time in years:

Who do I actually want to be from here?

Even when change is painful, it can also open new possibilities. And often, it becomes easier to change ourselves when our environment is already changing too. That’s why I think it can be helpful, and even freeing, to see this phase as a new kind of dedication to yourself and your own wellbeing.

I don’t yet fully know the answer to that question myself, but I am starting to feel the shape of something new forming. Still somewhat unclear, still in progress. But I can feel the pull, and I can see several possible next steps beginning to feel genuinely interesting and alive.

More and more, I’m beginning to trust that clarity is something that forms gradually through movement, not something we solve before we begin.

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Becoming through uncertainty

If you’re somewhere in the middle of an in-between phase right now, the disorientation you feel makes complete sense. Uncertainty this deep can feel truly heavy. It asks something of you that has become especially difficult in a society that constantly demands plans and certainty: to keep living, deciding, and moving forward while carrying questions that still have no answers.

After reading this, I want you to remember that living with uncertainty isn’t something we solve. It’s something we move through imperfectly, slowly, and often without knowing whether we’re moving in the right direction at all.

There is no rush to figure everything out or force yourself into a clear plan. Take time for yourself and for your thoughts. Prepare yourself for the fact that not knowing may feel heavy at times. And still, remind yourself that clarity rarely arrives before the next step is taken, but often because those steps were taken.

So when you begin to feel a pull toward something, take small and courageous steps toward it — for the sake of your own self-belief!

And because clarity forms this way, through movement and lived experience rather than thinking alone, it’s important to be gentle with yourself in the process. Not every step will move you forward. Some may take you sideways, or even backward, and that is not failure. Sometimes stepping outside your current situation is exactly what gives you the clarity to understand why you wanted to stay there in the first place, or why you no longer do.

We can’t get everything right in advance, but we can learn to stay connected to ourselves as we move through these phases. Learn to make decisions that feel aligned with who we are, without treating them as permanent. To allow our direction to change as clarity grows through experience. And to allow our experiences to change us, helping us become more like the versions of ourselves we truly want to be.

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I wish you all the best for your current situation, patience with the open questions you’re currently living with, and the courage to begin taking small steps toward a new direction if you’ve started to feel that pull.

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Thank you for reading! I truly appreciate your presence here.