The ultrasound image looked like a storm cloud.
“We need to remove his spleen immediately,” the vet said, pointing to a dark spot on the screen. “And do a liver biopsy. These nodules could be serious.”
My sweet 13.5-year-old dog Rumi lay on the examination table, looking so vulnerable and precious under the bright lights, still groggy from the sedation. The vet was already talking surgery dates, biopsy procedures, worst-case scenarios.
And I felt that familiar surge of panic: I have to fix this. I have to figure out the right answer. I have to save him.
But here’s what stopped me in my tracks: We didn’t actually know if there was anything to fix.
The Compulsion to Control
I know this feeling intimately — the desperate need to DO something, anything, when faced with uncertainty. That voice screaming: “You’re responsible for figuring this out! You have to get this right!”
It’s the voice making me research every possible outcome, consult every available expert, and torture myself trying to find the “right” decision.
I was following an invisible rule: “Every problem has a solution if I just find the right expert.”
But what if some things aren’t problems to be solved but experiences to be lived?
This desperate need to solve something immediately wasn’t new for me.
After menopause I developed insomnia. Not the occasional sleepless night — the kind where you lie awake for hours, night after night, watching the clock tick toward morning.
I did what any rational person would do: I tried to fix it.
I consulted two sleep coaches, functional medicine doctors, naturopaths, acupuncturists. I did two sleep studies. I tried melatonin, magnesium, valerian root, CBD, Amanita mushrooms, GABA, and dozens more supplements. I bought blackout curtains, an air purifier, a cooling mattress pad. I followed sleep hygiene protocols religiously — blue light blockers, no screens after dark, bedroom temperature exactly 68 degrees, same bedtime every night, sunlight for 20 minutes every morning, a ‘happy light’. And so much more.
Each expert had THE solution. Each approach promised to be the one that would finally work. Each had dozens, sometimes hundreds, of testimonials telling me this was finally THE answer.
The problem got worse.
After 6 maddening years of this, I discovered pivotal research: the more you treat not sleeping as a problem, the more your brain stays hypervigilant, constantly scanning for evidence sleep might not come. The anxiety about not sleeping was keeping me awake.
The solution wasn’t another expert or another supplement or protocol.
The solution was to stop making not sleeping a problem!
I started going to bed when I was tired, getting up when I was rested, and trusting my body would figure out what it needed. Night by night. It might not be the same every night and that was okay. I stopped tracking my sleep, stopped doing ‘sleep math’ in the morning, stopped following protocols, stopped researching solutions.
Within days, I was sleeping better than I had in many years. And still am to this day.
The breakthrough wasn’t finding the right answer. It was realizing I was asking the wrong question.
Six years of seeking the ‘right’ answer for insomnia | Photo by Alexandra Gorn on Unsplash
The Moment Everything Shifted
Sitting in the veterinary office, watching Rumi’s trusting face, something clicked.
He’s 13.5 years old. I’ve known this day would come eventually — some health issue would force difficult decisions. I’d been dreading it, but also somehow believing I could control when and how it happened.
The truth hit me: My priority isn’t my certainty. It’s his comfort.
I don’t need to know what those nodules are to know what matters most — his quality of life, not my need to control the outcome.
“Let’s just do the x-rays for now,” I said, choosing the less invasive option the vet had offered. “Check his lungs first, then we’ll decide our next step.”
Not the vet’s preferred next step. Our next step, based on what makes sense for us, given our values.
Why We’re All Addicted to Expert Solutions
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: our culture has turned problem-solving into a religion.
We live in an economy that profits from your problems. The sleep industry is worth $22 billion. The wellness industry? $1.8 trillion. Pet health care? $261 billion and growing.
Every industry has discovered the same formula: convince people they have a problem, then sell them the solution.
Can’t sleep? You need better sleep hygiene, the right supplements, a new mattress.
Worried about your health? You need annual screenings, preventive treatments, optimization protocols.
Concerned about your pet? You need the latest diagnostic tests, the most advanced treatments, the premium food.
We’ve been trained to believe that every discomfort is a problem requiring expert intervention.
Somewhere along the way, steeped in this mindset, it seems I’d promoted myself to general manager of the universe — a job nobody offered me and I was spectacularly unqualified for.
But what if the constant need to fix, optimize, and control everything is actually creating more stress than the original situation?
This shows up everywhere once you start looking:
In business: “You need a coach, a consultant, a framework, a system to be successful.”
In relationships: “You need therapy, communication techniques, love languages, attachment style analysis.”
In parenting: “You need the right method, the perfect schedule, the optimal developmental activities.”
In health: “You need the right diet, supplements, exercise routine, biohacking protocols to optimize your body.”
In finances: “You need the perfect investment strategy, budgeting system, retirement plan, side hustle to achieve security.”
In general life: “You need the right mindfulness practice, morning routine, productivity system, 6-step routine and life coach to find fulfillment.”
Don’t misunderstand me — specialized expertise has value. But we’ve lost the ability to find the line between genuine need for help and compulsive problem-solving.
We’ve forgotten that uncertainty, discomfort, and not-knowing are normal parts of human experience, not emergencies requiring immediate expert intervention.
The myth that we need experts to tell us how to live | Photo by Rita Morais on Unsplash
The Myth That’s Keeping Us Stuck
This brings us back to the fundamental myth: there’s always a “right” answer waiting to be discovered, if you just find the right expert.
Here’s what I’ve learned after a lifetime of expert-chasing: There isn’t always a “right” answer.
Sometimes there are just choices to be made with incomplete information, based on what matters most to you in this moment.
The medical establishment has protocols. Remove the spleen, do the biopsy, get definitive answers. That’s their job, and I respect it.
But their protocol doesn’t have to automatically become my truth.
The sleep experts had their protocols too. Eight hours a night, consistent bedtime, perfect sleep environment. All scientifically sound advice.
But following their protocols was making my problem worse, because my situation required a different approach: acceptance rather than intervention.
When the X-ray showed no spread to his lungs, we chose to wait and monitor. Not because the expert told us it was “right,” but because it aligned with our priorities: his comfort, his quality of life, our ability to sit with uncertainty.
What Happens When You Stop Trying to Fix Everything
Back home after the vet visit with Rumi, I finally applied what I’d learned from those frustrating sleepless years. The relief was immediate.
Instead of frantically researching every possible treatment and outcome, I started just paying more attention to Rumi himself. Is he eating enthusiastically? Chewing his favorite bone? Happy to see us when we get home?
I started spending more mindful, quiet time just being with him, the way he is now. Enjoying and accepting his slower pace, his preference for more independence, his sometimes inconvenient needs.
Instead of torturing myself with “what if” scenarios, I started appreciating what is: my precious hound dog who still wags his tail, still steals cardboard, still curls up against my leg every morning. And still defiantly runs away when I get out his leash. 😉
I stopped trying to manage outcomes I can’t control and started responding to what life was presenting moment to moment.
Trusting the process instead of managing outcomes allows us to be more present to life as it happens
The Questions That Change Everything
What if….
- You’re not actually responsible for figuring everything out?
- Some situations don’t have a “right” answer, just some choices aligning with your values better than others?
- The compulsive need to solve every problem is actually creating more suffering than the original situation?
- You prioritized peace over certainty?
Obviously I’m not suggesting we ignore problems or avoid seeking help when it’s genuinely needed. But there’s a difference between responding wisely to a situation and frantically trying to control every outcome.
Some things are problems that need solving. Others are experiences that just need living through.
The wisdom is knowing the difference.
As a starting point, look for these warning signs:
- You’ve consulted multiple experts about the same issue with conflicting advice
- You spend more time researching solutions than experiencing your actual life
- You trust external authorities more than your own experience and values
The shift happens when you ask different questions:
“How do I fix this?” → “How can I sit with this?”
“What should I do?” → “What feels right for me?”
“What do the experts say?” → “What do I know to be true?”
This doesn’t mean abandoning all expert advice or making uninformed decisions. It means developing the wisdom to know when you need genuine help versus when you’re compulsively trying to control an outcome that’s not entirely yours to manage.
Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is stop trying to fix everything and start trusting you can handle whatever unfolds.
Time to resign as CEO of Solving Everything? I share insights about letting go of invisible rules and trusting your own wisdom in The Freeflow Rebellion. Join conscious rebels who’ve learned sometimes the best action is no action — and found peace and freedom in this truth.
