Ah, the unknown. My friend who I also kind of hate, who can send me into an uncomfortable yet familiar anxiety spiral at the drop of a hat.
I feel like we’ve passed the point of needing to know what’s coming next. Over the past year, we’ve all been clearly shown one time after another that life can change in an instant, and we’re all a little more comfortable with making plans in pencil than we used to be.
And yet this time is still weird. For me personally, I find this experience of “getting back to normal” to be more of a process than I expected. I always imagined I would flip right back into who I was pre-pandemic, and then some. That I’d feel euphoric, going out every chance I got and living like there’s no tomorrow (that’s not at all my personality, but I had a lot of time to fantasize about this).
But it doesn’t feel like that.
It doesn’t feel bad, but it also doesn’t feel like I expected it to. I’m happier and more grounded than I was a few months ago, and yet I’m still finding it hard to make plans, fill up my schedule, and venture out. And I’m getting wild cases of FOMO scrolling through the new flood of Instagram photos people post with groups of friends at restaurants or of seemingly fearless traveling.
So how would I define what I’m going through? How long will it be like this? When will I feel like I’ve officially made it out of this life transition? What am I even doing next weekend?
The answer is: I don’t know. And I’m finally okay with that.
“I don’t know” is a powerful answer. In relationships, in your career, in the whole “what is my purpose in life?” mind game.
Yes, it’s a vulnerable answer, and maybe not what some people want to hear, but it gives you the freedom to live in ambiguity and try out new things. It gives you the space you need to allow a decision to come to you.
And one of the most powerful things that saying “I don’t know” does is that it opens up your ability to instead focus on how you feel.
Recently, I’ve decided to try approaching everything with more curiosity, exploration, and lightness than I did in the past, putting all focus on how something makes me feel. If an experience or person makes me feel heavy, anxious, or just wrong, it’s probably not right. But if it feels light, fun, and exciting, it’s probably worth exploring more.
It’s helping me feel more grounded, and it’s strengthening the trust I have in myself to know whether or not something is good for me. And the trust that I’m on the right path.
So as you head back out into the world, remember: You are likely meeting a new version of yourself right now—someone different than February 2020 you. You may not know what they want out of life, which people they should spend time with, what they want to do on Friday nights, or how they might approach difficult situations.
But as you’re figuring that out, pay attention to how you feel when you do things. Let your intuition guide you and see what happens. It’s okay not to know.