There is Joy in Saying I Don’t Have All the Answers

I Don’t Have the Answer...

I’m realizing something about myself lately.

I have spent so much of my life being the person everyone could count on to know what to do.

And honestly, I liked that role.

It made me feel useful. Capable. Needed. Safe, even.

For more than twenty years, families have sat across from me in a pediatric dental practice, waiting for me to tell them what was going on and what we were going to do about it.

That is the job.

You look.

You diagnose.

You explain.

You reassure the worried parent sitting across from you.

You make a plan.

And I was good at that.

I built a practice, a career, and in many ways, a whole version of myself around being the one who knew what to do.

But it did not stay at the office.

I became that person everywhere.

At home, I was the one who knew which child needed what, which form was due, what appointment had to be scheduled, what tiny thing was about to fall through the cracks.

In the practice, I was the one people came to when something needed to be decided.

In my family, in my friendships, in leadership, I became the person who could figure it out.

And for a long time, I was proud of that.

I still am, in some ways.

But lately, I am realizing how much that version of me has cost me too.

Because when you are always the one with the answer, it can become really hard to admit when you are standing in a season that does not have one.

And that is the strange and very humbling place I find myself right now.

In a few weeks, I am flying to Maui to speak at CE on the Beach.

I will be standing in front of a room full of smart, capable, accomplished people. People who have helped build practices, raise families, lead teams, manage homes, hold all the invisible pieces together.

And I know they are coming to learn something useful.

A framework.

A plan.

Some kind of answer.

And the most honest thing I have to say is this:

I do not think there is an easy answer.

And maybe that is the whole point.

I have tried to talk myself out of saying that.

Every instinct in me wants to give them something tidy. The doctor in me wants a diagnosis. The coach in me wants a framework. The mom in me wants everyone to feel better before they leave the room.

Five steps would feel safer.

A checklist would feel cleaner.

A neat little takeaway would make me feel like I did my job.

But the season I am talking about does not work that way.

Half Nester™ is what I call this messy middle of life.

The kids are growing up, but they still need you. Your parents may need you more. Your marriage is changing. Your body is changing. Your work is changing. And somewhere underneath all of it, your identity starts asking for your attention too.

It is this strange in-between where your life is still full, but something inside you feels different.

And for so many of us, the first thing we try to do is fix it.

We try to organize it.

Optimize it.

Schedule around it.

Gratitude-journal our way out of it.

Tell ourselves we should be fine because we have so much to be thankful for.

And yes, we are thankful.

But we are also tired.

And tender.

And maybe a little lost.

And I do not believe anymore that this season is something we are supposed to fix our way out of.

I think it is something we have to learn how to feel our way through.

That is the part that scares me to say out loud.

Because what if people came for answers?

What if they expect the doctor, the coach, the speaker, the woman on the stage to hand them something clean and useful and easy to take home?

What if the most honest thing I have to offer is not a solution, but a mirror?

That feels vulnerable in a way I did not expect.

Because I have spent most of my life being rewarded for knowing what to do.

There are degrees and certificates and awards for knowing what to do.

There is not usually applause for standing on a stage and saying, “I don’t fully know either. I’m still learning.”

But maybe that is the most honest place to begin.

Because the truth is, Half Nester™ did not come from a polished place.

It did not come from a conference room or a business plan or a perfectly mapped-out idea.

It came from my actual life.

From moments when I looked around at everything I had built and everything I loved, and still felt this quiet question underneath it all:

Who am I now?

It came from realizing that I was functioning, but I was not really listening to myself.

It came from being deeply grateful for my life and still knowing something inside me needed attention.

That is the part I want to bring to Maui.

Not the polished version.

The real one.

The version that says maybe this season is not asking us to become more efficient.

Maybe it is asking us to become more honest.

Maybe the leadership shift nobody prepared us for is not about leading everyone else better.

Maybe it begins with learning how to lead ourselves with more compassion.

More rhythm.

More permission to not have it all figured out.

So over the next few weeks, as I get ready for this talk, I want to take you behind the scenes with me.

Not just the pretty parts.

The nervous parts too.

Why this message matters so much to me. Why it scares me. Where it came from. What I am learning as I prepare to stand in front of a room and say the thing I most needed someone to say to me.

So this is where I want to begin.

Not with the polished version of the talk.

Not with the final takeaway.

But with the honest truth underneath it:

I am preparing to stand in front of a room full of people who are used to holding everything together, and I am going to tell them that maybe this season is not asking them to hold it all better.

Maybe it is asking them to finally notice what all that holding has cost.

If you have ever been the one everyone counts on to have the answer, and you are quietly tired of pretending you always do, this is for you.

In the next piece, I want to tell you where this really started for me.

Not on a stage.

In a Target parking lot.

I am really glad you are here.

P.S. If you want a gentle place to begin while I get ready for this talk, I made a free email course. It is a short reflection every couple of days, with language and rhythm for the season you are actually in. No cost, no catch. You can start it here:

Sign up for the Half Nester™ email course…