“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” – Joseph Campbell

Looking back to when I first started college, I remember the constant pressure I put on myself to have everything figured out. I had this very specific vision of who I wanted to be and what my life should look like. I thought that if I could just stick to the plan, control all the variables, then everything would fall into place.

But as is often the case, life had other plans.

Nothing went exactly the way I imagined it would. And at first, that terrified me. The unknown felt like failure. Like I had somehow lost control. I struggled — still do, if I’m honest — with sitting in the grey space, the in-between, where things are unfolding but still unclear.

That discomfort with uncertainty has been one of my biggest personal challenges. There’s something deeply unsettling about not knowing what’s next. It makes us feel exposed, unanchored. And yet, I’ve started to see that this space — the unknown — is where most of life happens.

Why We Fear the Unknown

Fear of the unknown is deeply human. It’s wired into us — a survival instinct rooted in our need for safety and control. When we don’t know what’s coming, our minds often rush to worst-case scenarios. We imagine the risks, the disappointments, the things that might break us.

We also grow up in a world that teaches us to value clarity, direction, and progress. We’re taught to make plans, follow through, and stay ahead. So when the path suddenly shifts, or disappears altogether, it can feel like we’ve somehow fallen behind — or failed.

And yet, I’ve realized that the discomfort isn’t always a sign that something is wrong. Sometimes it’s a sign that something is shifting.

Soothing Through Uncertainty

When life throws curveballs, I’ve had to learn how to self-soothe — how to calm the internal panic and meet myself with patience.

Sometimes, this looks like taking a step back. Turning off the noise. Going for a walk. Taking a breath. Reminding myself that just because I don’t have the answers right now doesn’t mean I never will.

Other times, it’s about leaning into small acts of trust. Trusting that I’ve made it through uncertainty before. Trusting that even if I can’t see the full picture, I can still take the next step. Trusting that I don’t have to have it all figured out in order to be OK.

What Helps Me Now

I’ve learned (and am still learning) to make peace with the fact that control is often an illusion. I can plan, prepare, and hope — but at some point, I have to release the grip.

Instead of forcing clarity, I’ve started to ask different questions:

What can I actually control in this moment?

What would it look like to be kind to myself right now?

What’s the smallest next step I can take?

And more importantly: What do I need to feel safe within myself, even if nothing around me feels certain?

Alma’s Response to “Being OK with the Unknown”

Reading this felt like a deep breath I didn’t know I needed.

I really felt your words, especially the part about how we’re conditioned to believe that uncertainty automatically equals failure. That hit. I’ve definitely been in that place where the unknown didn’t just feel uncomfortable, it felt unbearable. I think it was because sometimes the unknown feels like proof that I am doing something wrong, or not trying hard enough, or falling behind everyone else who seemingly has their life all figured out (side note: no one has life figured out, no matter how well adjusted they seem).

I think that’s what makes uncertainty so sneaky. It doesn’t just shake our plans—it targets our self-worth. It makes us question our choices, our timing, even our identity because it compares us to others. And like you said, this is not just a personal fear we’re all destined to face, it’s been reinforced through societal norms. We’re raised to idolize and desire control. To pick a lane early and stay in it. To be “on track.” To follow your dreams and everything will work itself out. But life… rarely works like that.

What I love about your post is the shift in how you’re framing it—not as something to fear, but as something to be with. Something to expose yourself to, even if it still makes you uneasy. That in-between space you describe—the gray area—is so real, and so uncomfortable, but also strangely human.

Your section on soothing really stood out to me. Particularly when you said “just because I don’t have the answers right now doesn’t mean I never will.” That sentence alone was a comfort and very much-needed reminder. There’s so much pressure to know, to be sure, to feel settled. But sometimes the most important thing we can do for ourselves is to stay curious, even when it would be easier to shut down and force ourselves to come to some conclusion.

I also appreciated the way you wrote about trust—not the big, abstract kind, but the small, practiced kind. Trusting that we’ve made it through before. I like to think of this trust as the trust in taking that one next step, even when you can’t see the entirety of the staircase. That’s something I’ve been trying to work on too.

Thank you for putting words to something so many of us feel but rarely admit. There’s a kind of quiet courage in choosing not to force certainty; In choosing to stay soft in the unknown. And your reflection reminded me that we don’t need to wait until we “figure it all out” to be okay. Sometimes, okay just means showing up anyway—with shaky hands and an open mind.