What Got You Here Won’t Get You There
I think. But it's just my POV.
This has been on my mind lately—why so many of us feel disoriented, restless, or quietly overwhelmed, even when we’re doing “the work.”
I don’t have the answers, just some observations and a half-decent flashlight. Honestly, I think most of us are just making it up as we go. But freaking out is better in good company, tripping over roots together, and maybe cracking a few jokes so the existential dread is less dreadful.
So let’s take a slow walk through the fog. You can hold my hand if you want—but bring your own snacks.
You Can’t Quite Google it Anymore
Okay, so we've gotten used to answers. Like, really used to them.
Stuck on something? Google it. Not sure how you feel? Well, there's probably a quiz for that. Need to reinvent your career? There's a framework, a podcast, a Notion template, or someone selling a 5-step plan. You know the drill.
Over the last two decades, we've built a way of moving through life based on the idea that if we just collect the right inputs, we'll arrive at clarity.
But now we're in a moment that doesn't have a search result and we’re mostly just guessing.
There's no definitive guide for how to live in a world that's changing this fast. No guarantee that even the "right" choice will lead to anything predictable. And we're feeling it—not because we're doing something wrong, but because the rules changed and no one updated the manual.
We're in the fog.
The Fog
It's not just what's happening in the world. It's how it's landing inside us.
We're not just overwhelmed by events—we're overwhelmed by awareness. Climate collapse. AI acceleration. Fragile systems. Mental health in freefall. Economic instability. It's all visible, all available, 24/7.
And that kind of awareness is heavy. It drains attention. It frays your nerves. It makes hope feel like a luxury.
From an evolutionary perspective, we were swapping stories by the fire a few minutes ago—and now we're expected to function like hive minds. We weren't built to carry this much all at once.
So we adapt.
Some of us doomscroll compulsively, trying to stay informed and maintain the illusion of control.
Some dive into curated softness, alignment, all aesthetic rituals and nervous-system talk.
Others simply check out—not because they don't care, but because caring feels like too much when you're already maxed out.
And all of that makes perfect sense to some degree. These are very human responses. They're just short-term ways of coping with a long-term shift we still haven't fully named.
"Just Kidding!"
Remember a few years ago when a new narrative showed up? You know the one—slower, softer, supposedly more sane.
We were told: Rest. Set boundaries. Stop grinding so hard. Heal yourself. Find alignment. Choose depth, not speed. All that good stuff.
And for a while, it felt like a revolution. We started saying no. Listening inward. Being intentional.
And now?
The rent is still due. The volatility didn't slow down just because we did.
It's like someone said, "You can get off the hamster wheel," and then halfway through your nap, they shouted, "Just kidding, get back on."
Only now we're more tired. More aware. More sensitive to the mismatch between what we were promised and what we're actually living through.
We raised our expectations and our consciousness—but the world didn't raise its support systems to meet us there.
And that gap? That ache between how things are and how we hoped they'd be? That's where a lot of the tension lives now.
How We Got Here
The old map was straightforward: Pick a path. Follow the plan. Execute.
It made sense when life was more stable—when roles were defined, when identity stayed put, and when institutions mostly worked. But that version of the world is on its way out.
And yet, many of us are still trying to operate with tools designed for a past that no longer exists, applying old logic to new complexity.
The terrain has changed. And when the map no longer matches the landscape it gets tricky.
The more we cling to what used to work, the more lost we feel. And I get it—"But it used to work!" Yeah, well. It's not (just) you—it's also the map. Promise.
Uncertainty for Breakfast
We're not lacking information. We're drowning in it. The problem is that it is so atomized, often seem so contradicting, that it’s hard to make sense of it all.
So now something else is becoming more valuable: The ability to pause, notice patterns, ask better questions, and make small moves without a full script.
That kind of navigation is harder. It requires energy, attention, and a whole lot of honesty. It means staying awake when everything in the culture keeps handing you more ways to check out.
So yes—better questions. Less certainty. More agency. These are practical tools for moving through a world that's constantly shifting beneath our feet.
It's uncomfortable. There are no guarantees. But it might be the only real way forward.
We need to build new muscles—agility clarity, discernment. While moving.
Making Peace With Uncertainty
For a while, I was trying to fight the fog myself. Frustrated by the not-knowing. Trying to figure it out, push through, make it make more sense. Possibly doomscrolling a bit.
And the harder I tried, the more stuck I felt.
At some point, I gave up pretending I had answers I didn't. And something shifted—not dramatically, but meaningfully.
I stopped running. Sat down with the discomfort. Treated it like an awkward friend instead of an enemy.
It wasn't fun. Sitting with uncertainty never is—especially when the stakes feel high, when time feels short, when nothing feels clear.
But once I stopped flailing and actually looked around, I realized I did know a few things. A lot is changing- and that’s hard to predict, let alone control, but there are also things that are not likely to change any time soon. Turns out, I had enough to work with, I could just keep inching forward.
Just a Turning Point
If you're feeling off-track, it probably just means you're pretty sane.
Burnout, confusion, the weird ache of not-quite-belonging—none of it means you're failing. It might mean you're in a turning point. A reset. Not back to the old way, but toward something more grounded and real.
Look at it as an Adventure. You don't need to have a rigid plan. You don't need to have it together at all times. You just need to stay in motion—one step at a time.
It won't be linear. It might not feel graceful. But it will be yours. And that's something worth holding onto.
Where We're Headed Next
We're not here to wait this out.
Uncertainty and overwhelm are part of the new weather. But that doesn't mean we're powerless.
It means we need different skills. Different rhythms. New ways of choosing, sensing, recovering, and adapting.
And we don't have to do it alone.
That's the weird paradox of now—many of us are separately experiencing the same collective confusion. So if you feel like you're fumbling through the fog, just know... so is almost everyone else - unless they’re busy playing video games, and haven’t noticed all the changes.
Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is admit we don't know—and keep going anyway. Maybe with a bit more compassion for ourselves. Because, honestly? It's hard. It really is hard.
So here's to navigating the fog—awkwardly, honestly, and occasionally laughing at how weird it all is. Because, look, surviving the fog isn't enough. I think it’s an opportunity to acquire new skills—and maybe even shape what comes after.
All you need to do now is to pick your Sage (you can also burn some if you’re in that camp) and have a great weekend.
Was this helpful or relatable? I'd love to hear what this brought up for you—feel free to hit reply, leave a comment, or forward it to someone who might be in the fog too.
