What If the Uncertain Path Is the Right One: Stop Waiting to Know. Start Doing.

Consistent, messy action beats perfect plans every time. Especially when you’re building something that doesn’t exist yet.

There’s a myth that clarity comes before movement. That if we just think hard enough, prepare long enough, survey enough people, we’ll reach some golden moment of certainty. We’ll feel ready. We’ll be sure. Then we’ll go. It never happens like that. Not in public service. Not in diplomacy. Not in entrepreneurship. Not in anything that asks you to evolve.

Over the last several months, I’ve been in conversation after conversation with people stuck in that moment. They’re tired. Sharp. Accomplished. But stuck. Something in them knows that the way they’re living and working no longer fits. But they haven’t moved. They want the plan before the pivot. They want confirmation before courage. I know that place well. I was there six months ago. A year before that. Maybe even longer.

The scariest part was not the career change. It wasn’t logistics. It wasn’t even the fear of what came next. The real fear was this: can I be honest with myself about what I actually want? Because once you ask that question, everything shifts. You can’t un-know it. You can’t keep pretending the pension makes it worth it. You can’t keep explaining away the chronic burnout, the way your spark has dulled. And you definitely can’t hide behind your title anymore. That’s what I wrestled with.

I built my career in public service. Nearly twenty years at the State Department. I led programs that shaped public opinion. I advised senior leaders. I negotiated with governments in complex and sometimes volatile spaces. I advanced U.S. policy in ways most people will never see. I did the thing. And I was proud of it. I still am. But pride isn’t the same as alignment. And for me, something was shifting. It was less about what was wrong and more about what was calling me next. The work still mattered. It still matters. But I realized I wanted to contribute in new ways.

What most people didn’t see was the pace. The schedule that never let up. The parenting from across time zones. The kind of responsibility that stays with you long after business hours end. And over time, I felt myself outgrowing the rhythms I had once adapted to so naturally. Eventually I had to face a truth that wouldn’t leave me alone. I was still delivering results. But I wasn’t energized anymore. I wasn’t feeling the pull that had once made the hard days easier. And I knew I didn’t want to go another decade without that sense of momentum and purpose.

So I did the hardest part. I decided. I said yes to leaving. And the minute I did, something shifted. I felt terrified. But I also felt more alive. I felt clarity in my body before I could articulate it with words. I felt nervous and energized at the same time. And I remembered that I’ve made harder decisions with far less information before.

When I first joined the Foreign Service, I didn’t know what country I’d be sent to. I didn’t know what policies I’d implement. I didn’t know what languages I’d need or what crises I’d face. But I said yes. I trusted that I’d figure it out along the way. That instinct served me then. It still serves me now. What I’ve learned is that consistent, messy action is the only way forward when you’re building a future that doesn’t yet exist.

This isn’t theoretical. It’s deeply practical. The most significant results in my career didn’t come from perfect planning. They came from doing, testing, adjusting, and doing again. That’s how I launched programs that helped shape Brunei’s TIP narrative. That’s how I supported counter-disinformation efforts. That’s how I kept showing up in rooms that didn’t expect me. I threw ideas at the wall. I followed what worked. I learned from what didn’t. And I kept going.

Now I’m applying that same approach to this new chapter. I don’t have a perfect five-year plan. I don’t know all the things I’ll create. But I do know this: I trust my ability to move forward even when the map is incomplete. When people ask me how I made the decision, they often expect a moment of epiphany. They want a checklist. A turning point. A green light from the universe. But that’s not how it happened. It wasn’t dramatic. It was slow, honest, internal. It was a growing discomfort that eventually outgrew my ability to ignore it.

The real decision wasn’t just professional. It was personal. I wanted to be more present with my family. I wanted to lead in a way that allowed for more creativity and less depletion. I wanted space to explore new ways to contribute. And I wanted to model for my children what it looks like to listen even when it’s uncomfortable. That’s the thing about alignment. You don’t always notice when you’ve lost it. But once you feel it again, you can never go back.

And here’s where it gets messy. The in-between is hard. There are moments I still doubt. There are moments I miss the ease of knowing exactly what to say when someone asked me what I do. There are moments when the uncertainty is loud. But the freedom is louder.

So if you’re reading this and you’re in the stuck “I don’t know what comes next” space, let me tell you what I wish someone had told me sooner. You don’t need to know what’s next. You just need to know what you’re no longer willing to carry. You don’t need a perfect plan. You need a first step. You don’t need certainty. You need motion.

Consistent, messy action. That’s it. Every day. One thing. Try. Test. Pivot. Repeat. Apply for the fellowship. Launch the Substack. Do it for the plot. Say the scary thing out loud to someone who can hold it. Write the first paragraph. Ask for the informational interview. Do one thing that signals to yourself you are no longer waiting to be picked. Because the longer you wait to know, the further you drift from your own agency.

People are not actually afraid of change. They are afraid of what change will reveal. You are not afraid of the unknown. You are afraid of who you might become when you step fully into it. But here’s what I can tell you now from the other side. The fear is real. But so is the liberation. The version of you that you’re scared to meet? She is waiting with clarity, creativity, and courage. And when she finally gets her voice back, she’s going to be unstoppable.

So don’t wait to know. Start. And keep going. Every day. One action at a time. That’s how you build what doesn’t yet exist. If this is the kind of clarity you need more of, I write five days a week at Still I Notice Everything. For people navigating transition. For women of the global majority building strategy and self-worth at the same time. For anyone ready to move with purpose, even if they’re still figuring out the plan.