Not Everything Needs an Answer

 Over the years, as I’ve presented and shared my story with different groups, I’ve often challenged people to stay aware of the stressors in their lives, to notice when anxiety or depression start to show up and things feel “off.” From personal experience, and from working with many others, I know these issues don’t just stay in the background. They can and do affect our personal lives, our relationships, and even the decisions we make in our businesses.

As I’ve talked about before, I have a deep curiosity about my own mental health. I’m always trying to understand it, always looking for answers. Sometimes I think that curiosity serves me well. Other times, I’m not so sure it does.

Last week one night, something happened that felt out of the ordinary, and it’s had me thinking. Let me give a bit of context.

For many years, both during my farming years and for some time after, I would wake up at night with significant anxiety. The kind where my stomach would churn, my heart would race, and my head would feel like it was pounding. Over time, I learned how to manage it in my own way. I would go to what I call my “happy place”, often picturing a golf course and playing it hole by hole in my mind. It was surprisingly effective and would usually settle me enough to fall back asleep.

Over the last few years, that night-time anxiety has, for the most part, not been an issue. I’ve often said how grateful I am that I sleep as well as I do, because I know many people aren’t that fortunate. For them, anxiety and depression can keep them up night after night.

But that night was different.

I got up in the night to use the washroom, nothing unusual there, especially at my age. What was unusual was what happened when I got back into bed. I experienced what I would describe as a panic attack. It came on suddenly, felt overwhelming, and for a minute or two I felt genuinely terrified. It was different from the anxiety I had experienced in the past. And then, just as quickly, it passed.

The following morning, my curiosity kicked in. I started looking into it, analyzing it, trying to make sense of it. And before long, I found myself worrying that I might now have a new issue to deal with. Ironically, I was experiencing anxiety about the anxiety, which was probably worse than the original moment itself.

But then I paused.

I wondered if my curiosity was getting the better of me again. I asked myself what it would be like to simply experience something like that without trying to figure it out or attach meaning to it. And honestly, I’m not sure I have a good answer to that yet.

What I do know is that I need to be more intentional about boundaries. If something like that happens again, I need to be able to set it aside. To say, “That’s interesting, but it’s not something I need to solve right now.” I don’t think this is about shutting my mind off, I think it’s about training it. About redirecting it toward something more helpful when it starts going down unproductive paths.

Self-awareness can heal us, but it can also keep us stuck if we don’t loosen our grip on it a bit.

And maybe the work I still need to do is learning that not everything needs an answer. Some things don’t need to be chased down. They just need to be allowed to pass.