Lesson # 7 in Building Resilience Dancing with Uncertainty: The Courage of 'I Don't Know
Remember those days when a good old-fashioned roadmap was all you needed? A crisp, folded paper promising a clear destination, a few well-marked turns, and the reassuring knowledge of precisely when you’d arrive.
Our lives, it seems, have few such guarantees. We are wired to crave certainty—a definitive diagnosis from a doctor, a stable number in our bank account, a roadmap for the future that has no unexpected detours or sudden detours.
We yearn to know how it all turns out, to control the narrative, to predict the next chapter before we’ve even finished the current sentence.
For me, one of those profoundly defining moments came with the loss of my boarding facility. It wasn’t merely a business; it was a dream I had meticulously built with my own hands, fueled by passion and years of dedication.
It was a place teeming with life, where every hoofbeat and whinny was a testament to hard work and connection. The signs of economic shift, the whispers of changing tides, were there if I looked closely, but the ultimate loss felt like a sudden, jarring stop in the middle of a perfectly planned journey.
Every "what if" and "what now" that flooded my mind became a painful, open-ended question, echoing the vast, unknown landscape stretching before me. In that moment, I realized that my carefully constructed world of certainties, the bedrock of my daily existence, had been completely upended.
This brings me to our seventh lesson on resilience – a lesson that doesn’t often get the fanfare it deserves in our culture of constant striving, hustle, and the illusion of absolute control.
It is the art, truly, of dancing with uncertainty. It’s not about being brave every single moment; in fact, sometimes you’ll be absolutely terrified, your heart pounding with fear and doubt.
But it is, unequivocally, about showing up for your life anyway, even when you have no idea what comes next, even when the path ahead is shrouded in mist. If you, like so many of us, have ever found yourself adrift in a season of "I don't know," grappling with open-ended questions that feel too heavy to carry, then this lesson, born from experience and refined by survival, is profoundly for you.
The Siren Song of Certainty: Why We Crave It So Deeply
Our desire for certainty isn't a flaw; it's deeply ingrained, a primal survival mechanism that has served humanity for millennia. From the earliest days, our brains have been hardwired to predict, to anticipate, and to control our environment. Is that rustling in the bushes a predator or just the wind?
Knowing the answer could mean life or death. In our modern lives, these ancient instincts manifest differently, but the underlying drive remains: we want to know what's coming so we can prepare, protect, and proceed with confidence.
Think about the myriad ways this plays out in our lives, especially as women who have navigated decades of experience. The agonizing wait for a child to come home safely, the phone call from the doctor after a routine check-up, the suspense surrounding the results of a biopsy, or the nail-biting anticipation of a crucial financial decision.
These are all moments where certainty eludes us, and our minds race to fill the void, often with worst-case scenarios. We pore over details, search for reassurance, and try to construct a predictable outcome in our heads.
This intense yearning for a guarantee is not a sign of weakness; it’s simply human.
However, this inherent craving can also become a trap – the trap of attempting to control everything. We micromanage, we overthink, we exhaust ourselves trying to orchestrate every possible outcome. It’s an exhausting and ultimately futile battle, much like trying to stop a mighty river with your bare hands.
Life, in its glorious, unpredictable complexity, simply does not conform to our carefully laid plans. The more we cling to the illusion of control, the more we suffer when reality inevitably diverges from our expectations.
The truth, a hard-won truth for many of us, is that true strength and genuine peace lie not in controlling the world around us, but in expertly managing our internal response to its ceaseless, unpredictable currents. It's about learning to sail in any weather, rather than demanding only sunny skies.
The Unraveling: My Dance with the Unknown
Let me take you back to my own journey with the boarding facility, because it’s here, in the heart of that loss, that this lesson truly took root. My facility wasn't just a collection of barns and paddocks; it was a vibrant community, a bustling hub of life and connection.
Each stall held the story of a beloved animal, each arena echoed with the laughter of riders, and every sunrise brought the promise of a new day spent in purposeful work.
I poured my soul into that place, nurturing it from concept to a thriving reality. It represented stability, passion, and the culmination of years of dedicated effort. It was a tangible expression of my dreams, my skills, and my unwavering commitment.
The unraveling wasn't a sudden, cataclysmic event, though its finality felt that way. It was a slow, creeping erosion of certainty. There were whispers in the local economy, subtle shifts in the market, unforeseen expenses that chipped away at the foundation.
I fought tooth and nail, tirelessly searching for solutions, adjusting, adapting, trying to predict the next challenge. I spent countless sleepless nights analyzing spreadsheets, envisioning alternative strategies, and battling a growing sense of dread. Each day brought a new set of "what ifs" – what if the economy doesn't recover? What if I can’t make payroll? What if all this hard work, all these dreams, simply slip through my fingers?
The certainty I had built my life upon was slowly, agonizingly, slipping away, replaced by a gaping chasm of the unknown.
The moment the final decision was made, the day I accepted the inevitable, felt like the world had been pulled out from under me. It was a profound, guttural grief, the kind that steals your breath and hollows you out.
The future, which had once seemed so clearly defined, dissolved into a terrifying blank space. There was no blueprint, no contingency plan for this level of loss. For a time, simply existing felt like an insurmountable task.
How do you move forward when every direction seems shrouded in mist, when the very ground beneath your feet feels unstable?
This was where the "dancing" truly began. It wasn't elegant at first; it was clumsy, halting, often tearful. "Showing up" looked like waking up each morning and just getting dressed, even when the thought of facing the day felt unbearable. It meant having difficult conversations, admitting vulnerability, and reaching out for support when every fiber of my being wanted to retreat.
It meant taking one small step at a time – cleaning one drawer, making one phone call, allowing myself one moment of quiet reflection – without needing to know the entire sequence of steps that would follow. It was in these agonizing, uncertain moments that I discovered a profound truth: I was still here.
I was still breathing. And I was still capable of movement, even if that movement was just a hesitant shuffle.
This wasn't a failure; it was a grueling, transformative lesson. The loss of my facility, painful as it was, became a testament to my raw, undeniable courage in the face of the unknown. I survived it. I navigated a period of profound uncertainty, and I emerged on the other side, not unscathed, but infinitely stronger.
My past "charts" – the blueprints of my business, the financial projections, the daily schedules – had all been rendered obsolete. But in their place, a new, more profound chart emerged: a record of resilience, marked by every hesitant step, every tear shed, and every moment I chose to keep going without knowing how it would all turn out. And that, dear friends, is a victory far more enduring than any business success.
Courage in Motion: Your Unseen Victories
Let's redefine courage, especially for us, women who have lived long enough to accumulate a rich tapestry of experiences. It's not always about fighting a fire or conquering a mountain.
More often, it's about the quieter, persistent acts of showing up, day after uncertain day. It’s about taking that next small step when your heart is heavy, and your mind is clouded with doubt.
I speak to you, remarkable women over 50, because your lives are already replete with such moments of "courage in motion." If you've navigated a painful divorce after decades of marriage, stepping into an unknown future, that's courage. If you've reinvented yourself after an empty nest, seeking new purpose when your primary role shifted, that’s courage. If you've cared for an aging parent, making impossible decisions with no clear right answer, that's courage.
If you've faced a health scare, endured a layoff, moved to a new city, or simply woke up one morning and decided it was time to change something fundamental about your life, you have danced with uncertainty.
We often overlook these "silent" victories, dismissing them as just "getting through it." But they are far more than that. The courage to ask for help when you feel overwhelmed. The courage to admit you don't have all the answers. The courage to sit with an uncomfortable feeling instead of running from it or numbing it. The courage to start over, or to simply begin again, even when you feel ill-equipped.
These are the powerful, invisible markers on your personal charts of the past – not records of loss or failure, but profound testaments to your inherent resilience. They are the moments when you chose to keep moving, even when the ground beneath you felt like quicksand.
These moments, these difficult periods of not knowing, are precisely what build true resilience. They forge character, deepen empathy, and expand our capacity for life’s inevitable challenges. They teach us that we are stronger, more adaptable, and more capable than we ever imagined.
The past charts you reference – the story of your business, the various challenges life has thrown your way – are not static records of what was lost. They are dynamic, living proof of your capacity to adapt, to persevere, and to find your footing, even when everything else shifts. They are your personal history of courage in motion.
Embracing the Dance
So, how do we cultivate this dance with uncertainty? How do we find our rhythm when the music keeps changing?
- Acknowledge and Validate: First, acknowledge the discomfort. It’s okay to feel afraid, anxious, or lost. These emotions are valid. Don't judge yourself for them.
- Focus on the Next Small Step: When the future feels overwhelming, bring your focus back to the present moment. What is one small, manageable step you can take right now? It could be as simple as making your bed, taking a walk, or reaching out to a friend.
- Practice Self-Compassion: Be kind to yourself. You wouldn't chastise a friend for struggling; extend that same grace to yourself. This journey is hard.
- Connect with Your Core Values: When external circumstances are chaotic, anchor yourself in what truly matters to you. What are your non-negotiables? What principles guide your life? These provide stability when everything else feels unstable.
- Cultivate a Growth Mindset: See challenges not as dead ends, but as opportunities for learning and growth. Every "I don't know" is an invitation to discover something new about yourself and the world.
- Seek and Offer Support: Lean on your community. Share your vulnerabilities. You'll be amazed at the strength you find in collective experience, and the solace in knowing you are not alone. And remember, your story, your resilience, can be a powerful source of inspiration for others.
To the women who have kept going without knowing how it all turns out—who have faced diagnosis, financial instability, unexpected loss, and the bewildering landscape of "I have no idea what's coming next"—you are not just surviving; you are profoundly, powerfully thriving.
Your life is not a series of unfortunate events but a beautiful, courageous, and utterly magnificent dance. Every step, every falter, every moment you’ve chosen to move forward despite the fear, has added depth and grace to your unique rhythm.
And believe me, the world is not just watching; it is better, brighter, and more resilient for having witnessed your extraordinary moves. Keep dancing.
Stay Zesty,
Sharon North Pohl,
Your Zesty Friend
