I Don’t Know

“I don’t know.”

Frightening, weighted words that sludge down our throats and swirl with anxiety around our chest.

Or at least that’s how they used to feel for me. I used to cringe when I wouldn’t know something. The physical sensations they would cause were unpleasant and undesirable. I wanted the presumed comfort of knowing, the control it felt like it gave me. And so my brain sighed with relief as I trudged into the world of assumptions and best guesses when trying to figure something out.

Not knowing also feels very dangerous to our brains; it doesn’t instinctively bode well for survival, the most basic yet most prominent function our brains are wired for. So, when we sit with uncertainty, various parts of our brain fire up and explore pathways to knowing.

But that desired comfort often comes at a cost. When we don’t know something and try to fill in the gaps, we tend to make numerous assumptions. And we likely end up with a solidified story that’s well draped in our narrative.

As an example, let’s say a friend of yours looked at you with a facial expression you aren’t sure how to read. Your brain will lead you down the path to assume it was likely due to an annoyance you often remember causing when you grew up. Suddenly, your brain starts to fill in the blanks about why your friend may be annoyed with you, and you either spiral into shame or fuel up with defensiveness.

When all along, your friend was thinking of something else entirely, not even really looking at you, even though their eyes had landed on you. Your brain, in seeking the comfort of knowing, created a whole story that wasn’t even reality.

But there is another way. Not an easy way, by any means, but there is another way.

We can sit with the discomfort, give it space, and listen to it. Take mindful breaths as the emotions surge within us. And you know what will happen?

It’ll calm down.

It won’t go away, but it will quiet down. And as it starts to subside, you’ll start to notice that your emotional table isn’t just occupied with discomfort; there’s also curiosity, wonder, and interest. You don’t know what’s going on, but maybe you can lean into these emotions and figure it out. You can look up at your friend, who is looking at you with an expression you can't read, and simply ask, “Are you okay?” And listen as they explain where their mind had wandered to.

Perhaps there is self-trust and belonging at your table, too. You simply smile back at your friend, take a deep breath, and ease into knowing that your friend will talk to you about whatever is on their mind when they are ready, regardless of whether the look on their face had to do with you or not.

I don’t know what else will come up for you, but I do know that if you can give up the discomfort of not knowing its space, other emotions will come forth for you. So, give it a try this week. When an opportunity arises, feel the surge of discomfort at not knowing, and let it be. Calm the urges to fill in the blanks, and just be.

Just. Be.