I remember a morning on the road when the map looked more like a question mark than a plan.
The evening before, I had pulled into a quiet patch of pine forest. There was no cell service, no signal—just the hum of the wind and the occasional crackle of pinecones under paw (my dogs, always the explorers). I’d been on the road for a few weeks, chasing some kind of clarity I couldn’t quite name. I believed that with enough movement, I’d figure things out.
The Stillness of Not Knowing
That morning, wrapped in a sweater and holding my tea close to my chest, I felt stuck. It wasn’t a dramatic, end-of-the-world feeling—just a quiet stuckness, the kind that feels foggy and indecisive. I didn’t know where I was going next. I didn’t know what my work would look like in six months. Honestly, I didn’t even know what day it was.
And still, everything around me felt okay.
The trees didn’t hurry. The sky didn’t demand answers. My dogs weren’t asking for a five-year plan. They simply sat beside me, ears perked, noses twitching at the breeze.
That’s when it landed—maybe I didn’t need to figure everything out today. Perhaps not knowing plays an important part in the rhythm too.
What If You Don’t Need the Answer Yet?
We live in a world that celebrates certainty. People praise us for having a plan, a path, a polished answer. Yet life (real, breathing, beautiful life) rarely flows in a straight line. Some of the most meaningful shifts happen in the in-between—when we wander, pause, or take the long way around.
The Wisdom in the In-Between
What if not knowing gives us fertile ground?
What if the waiting, the wondering, the “I’m not sure yet” seasons offer their own kind of wisdom?
Since that morning, I’ve allowed myself more space to be exactly where I am—without rushing toward resolution. These days, I still make lists. I still set intentions. I still move forward. But I no longer treat uncertainty like failure. I treat it like the soil beneath the surface, rich with quiet potential.
Learning to Trust the Fog
So if you’re in a chapter where the next step feels foggy—this is your gentle reminder:
You don’t have to have it all figured out.
Just breathe. Just be here.
The road will still be there when you’re ready.
Not knowing is part of the path — and you’re not alone in the in-between.
For more softness around self-expectation and timing, When You Feel Like You’re Falling Behind (You’re Not) offers a gentle reminder that your pace is enough.