This is such a challenging season in our personal lives and in the life of this country. We are living in a time where a virus has turned our lives upside down. People are struggling with their health, the illness or death of a loved one, the loss of employment, or the loss of relationships due to conflicts over COVID and politics. Parents and schools are making difficult decisions about how they will educate and protect their children. And while each person’s struggle may carry its own unique flavor, no one is untouched. And there is not an end date to this dark season. No way of saying “This is where we will land and this is when we get there.” We are awash in a sea of uncertainty.

I am living in uncertainty soup. I am processing the group decision by my colleagues and I to close our practice at the end of the year. When I turned off the office lights on the night of Friday, March 13th, I imagined I would be back on Monday. And now I will probably not be returning at all. What will my life look like after January 1? Will I have a small office space on my own? Will I still be doing telehealth? Will I be preparing for potential retirement? I do not know what will be true. The future seems quite uncertain.

I am living in uncertainty soup. Last week I had a mass removed from my uterus, likely formed in reaction to the cancer drug I was on for 7 1/2 years. The surgeon thought everything looked good, but I will not know until she calls me with the pathology results. And as I wait for those to come in, I experience uncertainty.

What do I do with uncertainty? I name it. I accept it. I acknowledge how difficult it is to be uncertain and I will use it to fertilize my empathy and compassion for all who are living in uncertainty soup. Because if I don’t, I will likely do something, ANYTHING, to decrease the anxiety uncertainty creates in me. Because if I don’t, I will be combing ads online for new office space. Because if I don’t, I will be making contingency plans for chemotherapy that may never need to happen. I will be running down many paths without a true understanding of my direction. But sitting with uncertainty is hard. Really hard.

Those of you that read my first book, I’d Rather Love Life Than Hate Cancer, know that faith played a significant role in my journey. I wrote in the book that I did not expect God to make things right for me. I simply asked that he always be there with me through the journey. Just stay on the path with me, God. Just stay on the path. And He has. And He is today. In the midst of uncertainty soup, I know I do not take this walk alone. This faith grants me peaceful moments in these difficult times. But then, because I’m human, my desire to manage the uncertainty reemerges. It is an endless dance with many movements.

And so, I say this to you, my dear readers. If the specter of the unknown has you living on the edge of your seat, you are not alone. We all feel it. And some days we manage it well and some days we do not. Some days we have a grasp on it and some days it swallows us whole. Be gentle on yourself on those days that uncertainty does not bring out your best self. Your best self will return tomorrow. Or the next day. Or maybe a couple days. But it will come. Of that, I am certain.