In the Meantime: How to Endure and Evolve in Times of Uncertainty
You can feel it before you see it. The sense that something is coming or ending or breaking open into something else.
Sometimes it’s clear: a restructure has been announced, a leader is stepping down, a new direction is being explored. Other times it’s less defined — tension in meetings, uncertainty in decision-making, a gradual unravelling of what used to feel solid.
It’s like standing under a wide sky, watching dark clouds gather. You know a storm is coming. But you don’t know what kind or how long it will last. Some bring the rain we’ve needed, clear the air, or sweep away what’s long overstayed its welcome. Others leave nothing standing when it passes.
In your life and in our workplaces, these in-between times are deeply uncomfortable. The temptation is to do something — anything — to fill the space and dispel the uncertainty. To act, decide, restructure, fix.
But some seasons don’t need solving. They need waiting. And the kind of waiting that asks something of us: presence, patience, and trust.
Before the Storm: Sensing Change
Most of us recognise the signs before they’re officially named. The quiet hesitations. Conversations that stop short. Plans put on hold without explanation.
This is the moment where we begin to prepare — often unconsciously. Some of us brace. Some speed up, taking control wherever they can. Others slow down, watching carefully.
These instincts are natural. But when we don’t name what we’re sensing — even if we can’t yet define it — the tension builds. Assumptions replace clarity. Rumours fill the silence.
One of the kindest things a leader — or colleague — can do in this moment is acknowledge the weather. Even if you don’t have the forecast. Even if you can’t predict the storm. A simple, steady statement like “I can feel the change too, and I don’t know where it’s headed yet” can be enough to keep people connected, instead of letting uncertainty turn to isolation.
In the Storm: Holding Still Without Shutting Down
When the storm arrives — the announcement, the restructure, the departure, the merger, the shift — the pull to act quickly becomes urgent.
This is when people crave direction. But it’s also when clarity is least available.
Psychological safety in this space isn’t about pretending everything is fine. It’s about making it safe to name what isn’t known. To sit in not-knowing without punishment or panic.
Sometimes the bravest thing a team can do is pause. To hold still for just long enough to let the real questions surface:
What needs protecting right now?
What needs letting go?
What still matters?
This stillness isn’t the same as inertia. It’s not about avoiding action. It’s about creating space for the right action to emerge — not just the fastest or most comfortable one.
After the Storm: Choosing What We Carry Forward
Eventually, the storm breaks. The new reality takes shape.
This is the moment many rush toward — longing for clarity, direction, and certainty.
But moving forward with integrity requires a different kind of speed. One that remembers what was revealed in the quiet. One that honours what people endured in the waiting.
Teams that navigate transition well aren’t the ones that rush to reframe and forget. They’re the ones that make space to reflect: What did we learn about ourselves? What do we want to keep? What no longer fits?
Transformation doesn’t happen after the change. It happens because of how we waited through it.
Staying Steady in the Not-Knowing
If you’re in a waiting season now — personally or professionally — you’re not alone. And you’re not doing it wrong if you feel restless, uncertain, or uncomfortable.
We are not wired for stillness. But we are capable of it.
Some things you can do in the meantime:
Name the season you’re in, even if you can’t define it.
Stay connected — uncertainty thrives in silence.
Give yourself permission not to rush.
Pay attention to what’s surfacing in the quiet.
Trust that clarity can come without forcing it.
The storm will pass. And who we become while we’re waiting is what defines the future.