Why Uncertainty Is The Antidote to Worry

My IV port was getting itchy. How much longer will this take? I look up at the ticker searching for my number. It would still be a while. As far as I could tell, I wasn’t even on the board yet.

My mind wandered to the medical report requesting this follow up. As far as I could tell, it was written in an alien language masquerading as English. So is this good news or bad news? It’s still uncertain.

What is it about uncertainty that feels so uncomfortable? More importantly, can we do anything about it?

Mindfulness would tell us that uncertainty is uncomfortable because we’re not living in the present; that our mind and our body are taking up space in two different time zones, and it’s this misalignment that causes our distress. That’s all fine and dandy, but this explanation doesn’t provide the comfort I crave.

I find comfort in worrying.

I’ve come to understand that worrying is my poorly executed attempt to feel “in control.” By worrying, I’m an active participant in those moments through life when I have little to no control. In this way, I feel less helpless.

In truth, this excessive worry is merely the brain’s slight of hand lulling me into a false sense of preparedness and accomplishment.

* * * * *

Inside the room with the CT scanner, I’m asked to lie down. Swaddled in a warm sheet, the technician says, “I need you to hold very still. The dye would be entering your body via the IV port and you may feel some discomfort.”

As if hot tea was being poured into my veins, I did my best to hold still. Closing my eyes, I imagined I was on a tropical beach, sun beating down, warming me up from the inside out.

“Okay, go ahead and hold your breath.” The tube around me sounds familiar, like the spin cycle of our washing machine. But it’s not enough comfort to keep my worry at bay. I wonder what they can see, or if they’re worried for me? Should I be worried? It’s still uncertain.

Seeking comfort in worry is like searching for love in an unhealthy relationship.

* * * * *

On it’s face, uncertainty is a poor replacement for worry. It’s unpredictable and there’s no guarantee that things will end up the way we hope. But looking a bit deeper, it’s ironic how reliable uncertainty is. The truth is, everything changes, and for that we can be certain.

Uncertainty offers the freedom to continue figuring things out for as long as we need. It lets us grow and explore, unburdened by a predetermined destination or outcome.

Instead of mapping out a life in advance, feeling crushed by inevitable detours, uncertainty asks us to point due north. Staying open to what lies ahead, we build confidence in our ability to meet whatever arises with grace and insight.

To traverse the road with uncertainty, trust becomes our copilot.

* * * * *

“Okay ma’am. You can go ahead and breathe now. We’re all done.” I’m ejected from the machine and un-swaddled by the technician. The whir quiets to a hum and I stare up at the white ceiling.

“Are you feeling light headed or dizzy?” the technician asks.

“No. I feel fine. Actually, I feel good.” I decide she’s smiling from underneath her mask.

* * * * *

For most of my life, I’ve been in an intimate relationship with worry. “Trust is for the naive,” I’d say. But secretly, I’m envious of those who trust easily. To have implicit faith that things will work out, is to live a life of freedom.

This is my new goal.

I can no longer subscribe to the idea that worry is a productive use of my time. But I’m also not quite ready to take that leap of faith into the Realm of the Trusting. So for now I’ll hang out with uncertainty, point my compass due North, and trust that this path will lead me exactly where I’m meant to go.

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