My imagination is a stage manager with a headset and opinions. Before the coffee even blooms, its blocking today’s meeting, assigning lines to my VP, and cueing the moment where I say something perfect and everyone claps like its closing night. It feels protective. If I can script the ending, nothing can go sideways.
But here’s the twist that tweaks my nervous system every time: trying to nail the ending is like wearing Jello as a Halloween costume – IYKYK.
When I get spooked by “I don’t know,” I start casting CERTAINTY CHARMS without noticing. I polish past useful, like shine can ward off risk. I forecast imaginary weather inside a conference room, predicting reactions down to the sigh. I add little gifts no one asked for, like my snarky writing style, hoping approval arrives prepaid. I pack the calendar until feelings can’t find me and stack proof of my prowess like museum exhibits. Because motion looks like progress from far away.
Do any of those tricks buy peace? NOPE, but at least my anxiety is wearing cute shoes.
What DOES WORK is smaller, plainer, and infuriatingly adult.:
1. I name the unknown out loud: what we don’t know yet and what we’ll watch.
2. I define “done” before I start, then stop when I get there, even if the deck wants one more glow-up.
3. I pick the next reversible step and move. If that step stumbles, I learn something real.
Oddly, the less I worship certainty, the more I trust myself. Confidence isn’t clairvoyance. It’s consent to not knowing, plus skill in motion.
And since this is URfriendinHR, here’s the nod to my SNAK building blocks… I practice the SKILLS that steady me, lean on the NETWORK that lends me calm, choose ACTIVITIES that create signals, and keep KNOWLEDGE of what actually mattered so future me has receipts.
If this tugged at your sleeves, tell me in the comments: which CERTAINTY CHARM are you ready to retire, and what tiny experiment will prove you don’t need it?
