In the fall of 2023, I discovered that my husband was having an affair, and instead of journaling about it, I chose a more creative endeavor: writing posts for (what was then) a blog idea.

In the weeks following the affair, I continued to obsess about everything. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and questions swirled around me like a tornado: How could I have missed the signs? Should I stay or go? What would life look like without him? Each question seemed heavier than the last.

The uncertainty was overwhelming. It was hard to envision my new life when everything appeared so daunting – the high rent, ridiculous car notes, and my clear inability to choose a decent partner to be in a relationship with.

I feared that I would struggle and be alone for the rest of my life and I didn’t want that for myself. It wasn’t about needing excess or finding happiness in a man but about my basic human need for safety and connection. Oh, should I mention that I’m also over 40 and flat-out tired. I’m tired of being in the rat race and working my fingers to the bone and I’m tired of dating. I’m tired of “getting to know people,” and I really don’t have the desire to open my heart to someone new again and again and again.

Still, I left him. I realized that while fear is an inevitable part of facing uncertainty, it didn’t have to dictate my choices. He deserved to be left and I deserve a husband I could trust, who exercised love and respect for me.

And still, I grapple on occasion with uncertainty. Will my life truly be better? Sure, I’ll have my dignity, and I’m not downplaying the value of that, but there is also a part of me that fears I will have sadness, loneliness, and weariness for a lifetime to follow. A little dramatic, but I don’t think I’m alone in that feeling. Divorce is a whole other tearing away of who you thought you were. It can mean the deconstruction of the ideal you had for your life. The certainty once had about your personal trajectory is now filled with skepticism and suspicion. The “truths” you believed are challenged; albeit, truths about God, faith, marriage, yourself, decision-making skills, and the list goes on.  

That said, I knew that enduring sadness and loneliness was far worse than stepping into the unknown. It was about more than just survival; it was about reclaiming my life and embracing the possibility of a future filled with trust, respect, and love.

My need to have the answers and predict the future was holding me back from personal growth and success. Although, I couldn’t control the thoughts, entertaining them left me feeling paralyzed and the truth is, nothing is certain, but death and our futures have always been determined by what we do in the NOW. 

With that in mind, I started reading, researching, and asking a different question. Instead of asking, “How can I make my future certain?” I began asking, “How can I become the kind of person who can handle uncertainty?”

I found dozens of strategies, but these five helped me more than anything else. Maybe they’ll help you, too.

1. Find something bigger than yourself to believe in.

Whether that’s God, the universe, your values, or simply the belief that life has seasons, find something outside yourself to lean on. Because when you’re in survival mode, your confidence is usually at an all-time low.

For me, it was reminding myself, “If God brought me to it, He’ll bring me through it,” along with the simple phrase, “The universe has my back.” Those beliefs didn’t erase my fear, but they gave me something sturdier than fear to stand on.

2. Focus on what you can control

Fear loves to obsess over things you can’t predict. The antidote is action.

Save money. Make a budget. Write down your goals. Exercise. Read. Meditate. Go to therapy. Take yourself on a walk instead of another trip down the rabbit hole in your own mind.

Every small action reminds you that while you can’t control everything, you are far from powerless.

3. Practice choosing discomfort

The more we avoid uncertainty, the scarier it becomes.

Have the conversation you’ve been avoiding. Schedule the appointment. Ask for the raise. Start the business. Leave the relationship if you know it’s over.

None of those choices come with guarantees. But waiting for certainty often becomes another way of staying stuck.

4. Accept that certainty is an illusion

This one was both freeing and frustrating.

I wanted someone to promise me that leaving would be worth it. That I’d find love again. That I’d be okay financially. That I was making the right decision.

Nobody could give me those answers.

The truth is, none of us know what’s coming next. We simply make the best decisions we can with the information we have and trust ourselves to handle whatever comes after.

5. Take responsibility without taking the blame

This was the hardest lesson for me.

I wasn’t responsible for someone else’s betrayal. But I was responsible for what happened next.

I was responsible for healing. I was responsible for rebuilding my life. I was responsible for deciding the kind of future I wanted to create.

At first, that realization felt heavy. It even brought up shame. But over time, I realized responsibility isn’t punishment—it’s power.

If shame is something you’re wrestling with, I can’t recommend The Gifts of Imperfection and Daring Greatly by Brené Brown enough. Those books helped me separate responsibility from self-condemnation.

All that said, I still don’t know exactly what my future looks like.

Some days I still wonder whether life will be easier, whether I’ll find love again, or whether I’ll always carry some degree of grief over the life I thought I was building.

But I’ve realized something important.

The goal was never to become certain about the future.

The goal was to become someone who could face an uncertain future without abandoning herself.

That’s what healing has looked like for me – not eliminating fear, but refusing to let fear make my decisions.

If you’re standing at your own crossroads, waiting until you feel completely sure before taking the next step, I hope you’ll stop waiting.

Certainty may never come.

But courage can.

And sometimes courage is more than enough.