How do you feel about uncertainty? Love it, hate it, or indifferent?

Uncertainty and our move to the UK

We moved from South Africa to the UK in October 2017, and for months beforehand, we faced countless uncertainties.

For a long time, we didn’t know the exact flight date. Up to a week before we got on the plane, we didn’t know where we would stay when we first arrived.

There were other things too… “Who would take care of my beautiful cat? Would my parents and sister be okay with me so very far away? Would my business survive the move? How far would I be from Andrew when he was away at work, while I was alone in a strange country?”

I was in deep distress for months. Of course, I knew we would not be sleeping under a bridge. I knew we would work something out, so I could not understand why the uncertainty felt so horrendous.

My husband, on the other hand, saw our move from South Africa to the UK as one huge adventure. Yes, he was stressed too, about different things. The actual “not knowing” didn’t bother him nearly as much as it bothered me.

Recently, I began to understand why uncertainty is so difficult for some of us, yet exciting to someone else. I shared what I had learned with the participants in my Gentle Island of Calm Circle, and I hope it might bring you some relief too.

The brain is a prediction-making organ

Our brain is continually trying to make sense of what is happening and predict what may happen next with one purpose: To keep us safe.

Somewhere in the background, it is constantly asking:

• What is happening?
• What is likely to happen next?
• Am I safe?
• What might I need to do?

When there isn’t enough information to answer these questions, the brain cannot confidently prepare. Instead of peacefully waiting, it may increase its vigilance.

Uncertainty is difficult because it leaves the brain with no clear ending, nor a clear problem to solve.

An example: fear vs anxiety

When I was 11 years old, the neighbour’s enormous St Bernard ran barking towards me and scared the living daylights out of me. My brain identified the immediate danger. My nervous system jumped into action – I ran away from the huge animal like an Olympic athlete! Once I was in the house, I calmed down, my heart rate slowed, and I knew I was safe.

Uncertainty is different. The feared event hasn’t happened, and yet it cannot be ruled out either. There is nothing definite to respond to and no clear signal that tells the body, “It’s over now. You can relax.”

This helps us to understand the difference between fear and anxiety.

Fear usually has an identifiable object in the present: “That dog is coming towards me right now.”

Anxiety, however, is often connected to an uncertain future with two elements: “Something might happen, and… I don’t know whether I will be able to handle it.”

(If you enjoy more detail: Research into predictable and unpredictable threats supports this distinction. Unpredictable threats are particularly associated with sustained apprehension and vigilance, rather than the shorter burst of fear created by a clear and immediate danger.) (Neuropsychopharmacology)

What happens during perceived threat

When our brain senses possible danger, the nervous system may begin preparing us to respond—even though nothing bad has actually happened yet.

You may be familiar with some of the physical effects:  body tension, shallow breathing, a faster heartbeat, restlessness or agitation, disturbed sleep, digestive changes, appetite loss or nausea, even exhaustion from constant vigilance.

During 2017, before our move, I experienced many of these. I went through a very painful time with a possible stomach ulcer. I carried a great deal of tension, slept badly and felt as if I could never completely relax because something bad might be waiting for me.

This is important to understand: our distress is real, even if the feared thing has not happened.

My husband kept telling me, “But there’s no point worrying. Everything will be okay.” And logically, I knew he was right. But my poor (and also amazing!) brain and body still tried to get me ready for the possibility of danger.

Our mind tries to manufacture certainty

When we don’t have enough information, our mind wants to close that gap.

Do you recognise any of these attempts?

• worrying about the situation
• seeking reassurance from other people
• constantly checking messages, news or symptoms (think pandemic years!)
• gathering more and more information
• making detailed plans for every possibility
• postponing a decision until we feel completely certain
• imagining the worst outcome so we can feel prepared

Your dear, wonderful brain is simply trying to bring in a sense of predictability and safety. It’s not doing this to be silly or make your miserable. It’s doing this job to keep you safe.

What it doesn’t realise, though, is it can create a painful loop:

Uncertainty creates worry. Worry generates more possible scenarios. Those scenarios give us even more uncertainty to resolve.

Oh, dear!

Judy Picoult said it best: “Anxiety’s like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn’t get you very far.” 

So yes, worry helps us feel, “At least I’m doing something!” The sad bit is, all that exhausting mental effort doesn’t bring any wise answers. Sometimes it just provides ten new possibilities to worry about!

Uncertainty creates an open loop

An unresolved uncertainty is a powerful kind of open loop. The brain wants to close any open loops, and keeps returning to it:

“Have we heard anything yet? What if this happens? Should I be doing something? What am I forgetting?”

Part of our attention unconsciously monitors the situation, even while we are trying to work, rest or have a conversation. This uses our ‘bandwidth’ – our cognitive and emotional energy. Everyday tasks can feel harder, because some of our capacity is continually being used elsewhere without us even realising.

Completing missing information

When our threat system is already activated, the brain is also more likely to fill in missing information with a scary explanation.

A delayed reply from a friend becomes, “Something must be wrong. They had an accident.”

When someone’s tone changes, we assume, “I did something wrong and they’re upset with me.”

A quiet month in our business becomes, “My business may never recover. It’s a disaster.”

The brain is filling in a blank to try and help us. And a brain that’s already feeling anxious tends to complete the loop with danger instead of calm reassurance.

Thank you, brain… I know you’re trying to be helpful, but actually you’re making it worse.

So… Why is uncertainty harder for some of us?

Psychologists use the term intolerance of uncertainty to describe the tendency to experience ‘not knowing’ as particularly threatening or difficult, regardless of how likely it is that something will actually go wrong.

Some people are naturally more comfortable with uncertainty, like my husband. Those fortunate souls may associate it with possibilities, freedom and adventure.

For others, uncertainty has become associated with danger.

Looking at this list, do you notice any that resonate? 

Uncertainty may feel especially difficult if we:

• are highly sensitive to subtle changes around us (hello, dear HSP friend!)
• have a vivid imagination and can see many possible outcomes
• feel strongly responsible for preventing problems (hello, Rescuer, Responsibility!)
• have lived through situations in which unexpected things really did happen (hello, childhood!)
• have previously felt unsupported or unable to cope (hello, childhood and other trauma!)
• need information and context before we feel oriented (hello, sensitive soul!)
• are already stressed, depleted or outside our window of tolerance (hello, modern world!)
• care deeply about the outcome but have very little control over it (hello, sweet sensitive soul!)

Looking at my Clifton Strengths, I can also see that my own need for Context and strong sense of Responsibility probably both play a part in my uncertainty intolerance.

One part of me (Context) wants enough information to understand what is happening. Another part (Responsibility) is asking what I need to do. Yet another part (learning from mom in childhood) is wondering what might go wrong and whether I’m missing something important.

In a nutshell: Uncertainty deprives me of the information I want while leaving my sense of responsibility fully switched on.

Perhaps you recognise some of this in yourself too?

Compassion instead of criticism

Understanding this has helped me feel more compassionate towards the version of myself who struggled so intensely before our move… and still often do.

My younger self wasn’t being ridiculous or trying to spoil my husband’s adventure. Her brain and nervous system were simply trying very hard to keep her safe during an enormous life transition—with far too many open loops and not enough reliable information.

VUCA is real, and we are asked to adapt

I bet you’ve noticed that Life is filled with a lot more uncertainty than even 10 years ago. In the leadership environment, they’ve long been talking about the ‘VUCA’ world we live in: volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous.

We may never have all the certainty we crave. Life just does not offer us guarantees for any outcome (I’m still tapping to make peace with that!).

A possible helpful view

I believe we can learn to recognise what is happening inside us when uncertainty comes knocking yet again, and support ourselves through the waiting.

We can gradually help our nervous system learn: “I don’t know yet—and I can support myself while I wait.”

In my next article, I’ll share some gentle, practical ways to embark on a mini-adventure to make better friends with uncertainty!

I’d love to hear from you. 

What’s your relationship with uncertainty? Friend or foe? Adventure or dread?