The lie of Certainty

The most common sentence I hear in coaching is not “I’m burned out.”
It’s: “I just need to know, one way or the other.” And I get it, SAME. I also want life to send a calendar invite titled CERTAINTY with an agenda, pre-read, and a clear decision.

But life doesn’t work that way and work even less so…
-Leaders hint at “exciting changes” like it’s a gender reveal.
-Someone goes quiet in Teams, and your brain starts writing a prestige drama called “They Hate Me.”
-A meeting ends and you replay one sentence like its evidence.

So, my clients come in thinking they have 14 different problems: time management, confidence, communication, conflict, a relationship that’s technically “fine” but somehow eats all their oxygen… when half the time it’s one root issue wearing different outfits:

They’re trying to buy certainty in a world that doesn’t sell it.

Anxiety convinces you that if you can just know for sure, you’ll finally calm down.
So, your nervous system tries to engineer certainty by going full “over.”
Overthinking.
Overworking.
Overexplaining.
Over-documenting.
Over-scheduling.
Over-communicating, until a simple update reads like legal testimony.
It feels productive. It can even get praise (“so on top of it”).
Internally, you feel like a human browser with 47 tabs open and one of them is playing music, but you can’t find it.

But OVERING doesn’t create peace, it creates a bigger appetite for control.

If overthinking worked, one night of it would solve the next month worth of problems. It doesn’t.
Instead, you wake up with more scenarios and less steadiness.
And yes, this bleeds past work.
Sometimes the uncertainty isn’t the project, it’s a person.
The one who watches for a beat too long, then drops a surprising comment and disappears. Something just unreadable enough to make your brain start drafting a whole FAQ.

A lot of relationships get unwieldy not because people are terrible, but because everyone is waiting for certainty before they speak.
“I don’t want to go first.”
“I don’t want to make it weird.”
“I don’t want to be vulnerable and then regret having a pulse.”
So, the silence grows, and our brains fill it with stories.

This is where my SNAK lens quietly earns its keep:
SKILL to tolerate discomfort long enough to act.
NETWORKS to reality-check the story before it becomes a belief.
ACTIVITIES that put you back in your body and out of inbox-brain.
KNOWLEDGE to separate facts from fear in a fancy suit.

Because you don’t need certainty, you need clarity. And clarity usually comes from one of two places: a boundary, or a conversation you’ve been postponing.

Your turn: What’s your current “over” behavior, and what do you think it’s trying to protect you from? Drop it in the comments. Bonus points if you tell me which S, N, A, or K you’re leaning on this week.

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