Why We’re So Uncomfortable Not Knowing

At the beginning of each month, I take some time to reflect on how the previous month has gone. It’s an exercise I’ve also done with my clients for several years. We pull out our journals, write by hand, and give ourselves time to notice what worked, what didn’t, what we learned, and what might need more attention.

There is no need to make the writing sound intelligent or arrive at a clear conclusion. The purpose is simply to notice what is already there, the experiences we have moved through, the thoughts we have been circling, and the things we may not have given ourselves time to process.

Earlier this year, I added another layer to this practice. Once my clients had finished writing, I invited them to bring their reflections into AI.

What happened made me stop and think. AI didn’t replace what they had written. It helped them recognize patterns and connections they might not have noticed on their own. But those insights were meaningful because they began with something real: their experiences, their values, and their own thinking.

I’ve been wondering how often we skip that first part.

We live in a time when answers are almost always available. If I feel uncertain, I can ask Chatgpt and receive a thoughtful response within seconds. I can ask claude or gemini the same question and receive a slightly different perspective. I can search online, listen to an expert, or ask several friends what they would do.

All of that input can be useful. I use it often. But more information doesn’t always lead to more clarity.

Sometimes one answer feels right for a few hours, until another persuasive answer comes along. We can find ourselves holding on to whichever response gives us the most relief in that moment, especially when not knowing feels uncomfortable.

I understand that impulse. When something matters to me, I want to find the answer. I want to know that I’m making the right decision and that I’ve considered every possibility. Yet some questions cannot be resolved by gathering one more opinion, even a very intelligent one.

Sometimes the absence of an answer doesn’t mean we need more information. It may simply mean the answer hasn’t had enough time to form.

That uncomfortable space before clarity arrives can feel unproductive, but maybe something important is happening there. We are noticing our reactions, discovering which questions matter most, and beginning to separate what other people think from what we actually believe.

I don’t think we have to choose between personal reflection and AI. The experience with my clients showed me that the two can work beautifully together.

We can write first, then ask AI what patterns it notices. We can bring our initial thoughts into the conversation and ask it to challenge our assumptions. Then we can return to our own reflection and notice what feels true, what creates resistance, and what still needs more time.

It is the movement back and forth that matters. We remain involved in the process instead of handing it over.

If you find this subject interesting and would like to go deeper, I explore it from a slightly different angle in this short episode of The Courage to Be. I share more of what happened with my clients, along with a practical framework for using AI to expand our thinking without asking it to think for us.

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The more I experiment with AI, the less interested I am in rigid rules about when we should or shouldn’t use it. I’m more interested in the awareness we bring to the moment. Am I asking because I want another perspective, or because I want to escape the discomfort of not knowing?

I’m not sure we will always recognize the difference immediately. Maybe noticing the question is a good place to begin.

When you feel uncertain, what helps you recognize the difference between seeking another perspective and searching for someone else to give you the answer?

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