🌒 I Don’t Know: A Declaration of Power

Oye! Perfectionists!

Let’s talk about the phrase that used to torture me, but now saves me more times than I can count: “I don’t know.”

It used to sting. I thought it meant failure. Inadequacy. A crack in the armor of having-my-shit-together. But it turns out, “I don’t know” is a genius place to start.

Because let’s be honest. So much of our suffering comes from trying to plan our lives using only the knowledge we have right now. As if we won’t be gathering any new thoughts. As if we won’t change our minds ever. As if we won’t evolve into someone who sees it all differently six months from now.

Your entire life cannot be fully mapped out in this current moment. Not only is that the real definition of perfectionism, that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be. “I don’t know” isn’t confusion. It’s capacity.

It’s the pause before wisdom enters.

The space where curiosity takes root.

It’s the moment the Impeccable Woman observes, gathers, calibrates.

Not rushed. Not ashamed. Not performative. Just… open.

The Myth of Mastery

I used to think I had to know in order to be worthy of being in the room. But I’ve come to learn:

• Knowing is not the same as understanding.

• Certainty is not the same as presence.

• And “I don’t know” is not the same as “I’m not enough.”

Sometimes, the most intelligent thing I can say is: “I haven’t gathered enough information yet. That’s all.”

That’s not weakness. That’s systems-thinking. That’s discernment. That’s power with patience.

“I Don’t Know” as a Creative State

As a writer, “I don’t know” is my raw material. It’s what makes me dig deeper, observe longer, listen better. It’s what invites me into dialogue, instead of broadcasting.

Because what do I actually want?

I don’t want to impress you.

I want to connect.

I want to spark something between us.

And “I don’t know” is the perfect place to begin a conversation.

With you. With the world. With myself.

Reclaiming the Middle Place

Somewhere between self-assured declarations and spiraling self-doubt, there’s a middle place.

That’s where “I don’t know” lives.

Not helpless. Not passive. But humble enough to make space for what wants to come through next.

It’s not a dead end. It’s a clearing.

And that clearing?

That’s where becoming happens.