“Are you sure?”  This is a question we get asked or ask ourselves all the time.  How we answer depends not only on the content of the information, but also on our relationship with certainty.  Some people feel quite at home with being certain, while others are more comfortable with a certain amount of self doubt.  How we relate to certainty is an element of our personality that we rarely think about, but it may have a big impact on our well being and on our capacity for change.

Appearing certain gives us an air of confidence, which often attracts other people to us, especially people who are not so sure.  We prefer our leaders to be certain, as it makes us comfortable. But “certainty” can lead to self righteousness. If we believe we already know the right answer, we close ourselves off to new information.  We also tend to rely on stereotypes or assume we know things that may not actually be true. And in a strange way, certainty can lead to insecurity, as we look to affirm our certainty.  In fact, the pursuit of certainty can actually breed more insecurity. Have you ever been tempted to read someone’s e-mail or peak at someone’s phone to “prove” what you “know” is true? Certainty can lead to entitlement, as you feel you deserve to get your way or cheat a little, or that other people deserve to be punished because we are so certain of our right-ness.

Certainty is also the enemy of growth.  The more we can admit to what we don’t know, the more we’re willing to learn.  Uncertainty also allows us to be open to experience. Rather than assuming we know how someone will respond or how things will go, we live with an openness to the present and to newness.  In order to make a change, we have to be able to tolerate possibly being wrong or being in need of a new path. The root of all progress and growth is a willingness to be uncertain and give something new a try.

But there is an opposite extreme to entitled certainty. Some people live their life with a pervasive sense of uncertainty.  They are afraid to know what they know and have difficulty committing to an opinion or action. If we are too identified with our uncertainty, it can paralyze us with self doubt or indecision.  Without some internal sense of what we know to be true, we cannot take a stand or define ourselves.   We are vulnerable to passivity and in letting others dominate us with their agenda.

How we hold our certainty can be an important factor in how we relate to ourselves and the rest of the world. Like holding something delicate, we must do it with care;  firm enough to be a supportive structure of our identity, but gentle enough to allow change and growth. As in most things in life, finding a healthy balance of knowing your truth and being open to new experience is best.  If you are either too certain of your certainess or too certain of of your uncertainness, you will stay stuck.

I had a session with a young man that really touched me this week.  He was driven to our clinic by his boss, who noticed that he was having a hard time.  “Are you ok?” his boss asked. After considering his answer, the young man decided he needed to be honest. A half an hour later he was in my office, sharing with me about the wave of feelings he was experiencing that made him fear he would take his own life.  

It reminded me of a man in a documentary I had seen, regarding suicide prevention. He had miraculously survived jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge.  He shared his story of great ambivalence and pain, standing at the side of the bridge, wondering what to do. He was desperate for a sign of hope. “If anyone reaches out,” he thought at the time, “if anyone asks if I’m ok, I won’t do it.”  Somebody walked up to him and he felt a rush of relief. But instead, they asked if he could take their picture. He did, waited until they had gotten far enough away, and went over the side.

In thinking about both young men, the one in my office and the one on the bridge, it makes me wonder how often there are people around us that just need us to ask them, “Are you ok?”  They may not be suicidal, or in deep distress, but could use a sign that they are not alone. Often, when people feel burdened, they withdraw. Trapped within their own heaviness, they don’t want to be a burden to others.  Yet, most often, they welcome an invitation out of their isolation.

I am grieving my mother’s death and I am often wading through a deep pool of feelings and memories.  It feels good when someone asks me if I’m ok. It is a touchstone and a hand out of my inner world. Depending how I feel, I may share something or simply say I’m fine.  Either way, the gesture is greatly appreciated.