The hidden cost of chasing clarity

When I left my job at Google, I told myself I was taking time to explore. But within weeks, I had jumped into building a startup — not because of a strong alignment, but because sitting in uncertainty felt impossible. So I threw myself at the first socially sanctified opportunity.

And for a while, it worked. I had a pitch deck, a plan, and a polished answer when people asked what I was building. But beneath that apparent clarity was a growing sense of disconnect between what I was doing and what actually mattered to me.

Eventually, the pressure to stay committed to a path that didn’t feel right became harder to carry than the uncertainty I had tried to avoid. My cofounder and I parted ways, and I finally allowed myself to ask what I actually wanted to explore next.

We often treat clarity as a sign that we’re on the right track. But not all clarity is made equal. Sometimes clarity unfolds gradually through curiosity, exploration, and reflection. Other times, it arrives too quickly, driven by anxiety, offering the comfort of certainty without real alignment.

What do we lose when we reach for clarity before we’re truly ready to find it?

Why we rush toward clarity

From a neuroscience perspective, uncertainty is not just uncomfortable — it can feel threatening. When outcomes are unknown, the brain’s amygdala activates, triggering stress responses similar to those caused by physical danger.

One psychological phenomenon that helps explain this reaction is cognitive closure, first observed by social psychologist Arie Kruglanski in the 1990s. It refers to our brain’s tendency to seek definite answers as quickly as possible, even if those answers are incomplete or inaccurate.

It’s a coping mechanism: a way to resolve ambiguity and restore a sense of clarity so we can feel safe again.

In the short term, anxiety-driven clarity soothes the discomfort of not knowing. But in the long term, it can narrow our thinking, reduce flexibility, and make it harder to navigate change. We overcommit to jobs and relationships that aren’t a good fit. We over-plan instead of experimenting. We confuse certainty with alignment.

How to avoid the clarity trap

Anxiety-driven clarity gives us quick answers, often at the expense of better ones. It offers relief, but not resolution. But the alternative isn’t indecision or confusion. It’s a different way of relating to uncertainty.

Curiosity-driven clarity emerges more slowly through exploration. It’s the kind of clarity that develops when we’re willing to not know for a while — to ask questions, to try different approaches, to observe the results without rushing to conclusions.

While cognitive closure shuts that window of exploration too early, curiosity increases our tolerance for prediction error: the gap between what we expect and what we experience. This increased tolerance gives us the flexibility to update our mental models, stay responsive to new information, and make better decisions over time.

So, how do we resist the urge to resolve uncertainty too quickly and instead learn how to stay with the questions a little longer? These three practices can help shift your relationship to uncertainty:

1. Name the tension

Simply labeling the emotion (“I feel anxious because I don’t know what’s next” or “I worry about the loss of income”) can help regulate your stress response. This technique, called affective labeling, activates the prefrontal cortex and gives you more space to respond and mindfully consider the challenge at hand.

2. Timebox uncertainty

Instead of rushing toward a clear answer, give yourself a defined period during which clarity is not the goal. Take a month to explore a question, a few weeks to run tiny experiments, or a set number of conversations to have before deciding. This timeboxed approach is easier to bear than indefinite uncertainty and can lead to better, more aligned decisions.

3. Capture your curiosity

Jot down exciting ideas and conversations that give you energy. These simple field notes build metacognitive awareness (understanding your own thoughts) and help you notice patterns of curiosity. Over time, those patterns can lead to a deeper sense of clarity and help you course-correct if you committed too early.

That startup I jumped into? It didn’t last. But it taught me something important: Clarity driven by anxiety rarely lasts.

The kind of clarity you can trust surfaces over time, often when you stop trying to force it and instead in the space created by curiosity.

So next time you find yourself in a moment of not-knowing, consider this: How can you stop chasing clarity, and instead make more room for it to emerge?