You’re Not “Confused”—You Just Don’t Like the Answer

You tell yourself you’re confused. That if you could just figure it out—run the numbers, weigh the options, script the perfect conversation where no one gets hurt—you’d finally land on clarity. And once you had that? The decision would make itself.

But if we’re being honest? You already have clarity. You’re just scared shitless of what it means.

Not because you’re lazy. Not because you’re indecisive. And definitely not because you’re broken. You’re avoiding the truth you already know—because once you say it out loud, something has to change. And that’s the part that terrifies you.

“Confusion” Isn’t the Problem—It’s the Disguise

You’ve been spiraling in a loop, chasing clarity like it’s a scavenger hunt, when really, it’s a hiding place. Confusion is the costume your fear puts on. It buys you time. It makes you look thoughtful. It gives you a pass to stay exactly where you are, indefinitely.

But let’s rip the band-aid: You’re not confused. You just don’t like the answer your gut already gave you.

That answer is hot. It’s sharp. It’s destabilizing. It doesn’t come with a neat plan, a mutual understanding, or a guaranteed outcome. It’s messy. It’s grief-soaked. It’s the kind of knowing that blows your cover.

So, of course, you’ve avoided it. Of course, you’ve called it “processing.” Of course, you’ve wrapped it in spreadsheets of pros and cons, read six books, and turned your gut feeling into a 300-tab research project. You’re not weak. You’re not failing. You’re protecting yourself from the consequences of finally admitting what you already know.

And yes—admitting it will change things. But maybe that’s the point.

The Inner Tug-of-War That’s Keeping You Stuck

There’s the part of you that knows—the part that feels it in your body, your bones, the pit of your stomach every time he sighs in that tone or forgets—again—to run the dishwasher. And then there’s the part of you that panics. That clutches the steering wheel of your life with white-knuckled resolve and says, “Wait. What if I’m wrong? What if I ruin everything?”

This isn’t just "feeling stuck." This is shadow-boxing your own knowing while trying to pass as calm and reasonable. You’ve been micro-tracking tone, mood, and moments like a forensic analyst with a broken compass. You’re not waiting for more information. You’re stalling because the information you already have demands action.

You’re brilliant. Strategic. Trained in the art of preemption. But your inner committee is exhausted. And clarity is not going to come in the form of more data. It’s already here. You just haven’t let it breathe yet.

What Clarity Actually Feels Like (Spoiler: Not Clean)

You’ve been sold the myth that clarity is a whisper. A lightbulb. A soft exhale. But the real thing? It hits more like a punch in the gut.

Clarity isn’t always calm. Sometimes it sounds like a scream you’ve been swallowing. It’s nausea. It’s your heart racing at 2AM because you can’t unknow what just dawned on you. It’s crying in the car after another “sure - that’s fine” dinner.

It doesn’t feel good—at first—because it upends the identity you’ve been performing: The Steady One. The Fixer. The Keep-It-All-Together Girl. And the moment you let clarity in, those roles become harder to play.

Grief hits when you realize: you’ve actually known for a long time. You’ve just been waiting for someone to give you permission to trust yourself.

Don’t blink back the tears - go ahead and cry for her. The version of you that waited. That tried. That kept believing the bar would raise if you just lowered your needs a little more. She deserves a thousand tears—and a break.

Four Ways You’re Keeping Yourself Stuck (And Don’t Even Realize It)

A break from the four strategies she’s been using just to help you survive. The ones that might look like self-sabotage on the outside, but have actually been self-protection all along. Disguised as insight. Dressed up as strategy. Built to buy you time.

Are you ready? Here they are:

The “Maybe It’s Just Me” Spiral

You question your own experience. Maybe you’re too sensitive. Too reactive. Maybe you just need to be more patient, more grateful, more “chill.” So you dial it down. You internalize. You edit. Because it feels safer to gaslight yourself than risk being told you’re making a big deal out of nothing. You convince yourself that shrinking is wise. That staying quiet is kind. That swallowing your truth is the cost of being “easy to be with.” And this is how you disappear—one softened sentence at a time.

The “One More Sign” Game

You tell yourself you’re waiting. For a sign. A shift. A conversation that feels like confirmation. But what you’re really waiting for is permission. You dress it up as timing, intuition, divine clarity—but deep down, you already know. You’re just hoping something outside you will say it first, so you don’t have to.

The Research Spiral

You become a student of the dynamic. A scholar of the stuckness. You read the books, listen to the podcasts, take the screenshots, and rehearse the frameworks. You hope that if you gather enough insight, the knowing will hurt less. But clarity isn’t found in consumption. It’s found in the moment you stop intellectualizing your feelings and start trusting them.

The Outsourcing Trap

You play it casual when you bring it up to friends: “I mean, maybe I’m overthinking it, but…” You’re hoping someone else will name what you’re too afraid to say. You want someone to look you in the eye and say, “Babe, this isn’t it.” Because if they say it first, you don’t have to feel like the one who broke something.

None of this makes you foolish. It makes you human. You’ve been surviving. But what if I told you that you could do something different - something better?

Why Staying “Confused” Feels Safer

I know—“better” doesn’t always feel better at first. In fact, part of you might resist it entirely. Because confusion feels safer than clarity.

Confusion has protected you. She’s made it possible to stay. To stretch. To keep trying.

Because the minute you stop calling it confusion? You’re accountable to what you know. And once that happens, the game changes. You can’t unhear it. You can’t unknow it. You can’t soften it down to something more palatable. Not without abandoning yourself again.

And so, confusion becomes a holding pattern:

• If you’re confused, you don’t have to speak.

• If you’re confused, you don’t have to disrupt the balance.

• If you’re confused, you can stay in the good moments and pretend the rest is fine.

But lately? Confusion has been feeling more like a cage than a nest. 

And I know—it’s scary. The moment you admit what you know comes with grief, the possibility of confrontation, and change. It makes sense that you’ve tried to slow that process down.

But clarity doesn’t mean you have to act today.
It just means you have to stop pretending you don’t know.

What You Can Do Instead of Spiraling

Look—I get it. You’re afraid to name what you already know, because every time you do, it kicks off the same inner tug-of-war: one part whispering, This is real, and another shouting, Don’t you dare. You’ve learned to brace for the spiral. To expect that any flicker of clarity will end with you unraveling, backtracking, or blowing up your life. So instead, you stall. You soften. You tell yourself you're just not ready.

But - the spiral isn’t coming from the truth itself - it’s coming from the way you keep gaslighting yourself about it.

Here’s what to do instead: tend to the part of you that has a piece of clarity to share—not to debate her, not to fix her, but just to be with her.

Write it down, even if you delete it right after.

Say it out loud, even if no one else hears it.

Let it exist—unpolished, unresolved, uninterrupted.

Because she’s not here to blow up your life. She’s here to bring you home to yourself.

And if you want a place to practice, Divorce Detour was built for exactly that.

It’s not a roadmap for leaving. It’s not about deciding once and for all. It’s the space where you learn to stop betraying yourself while you figure out what comes next.

Start Working With a Relationship Counselor in St Louis, MO

Individual therapy for relationship issues isn’t always about making a final decision—in fact, it’s more often about creating space to hear your truth without pressure or panic. As a relationship therapist in St Louis, MO, I offer individual therapy for women who feel like everything-sucks-but-nothing-is-wrong and help them navigate everyday life with greater ease using Internal Family Systems Therapy. I also offer IFS therapy for therapists who are done performing wellness and ready to feel like themselves again. Learn more by visiting my about page or blog page today!