What's the Cost of Waiting for the Right Answer?

I stayed at one organization for 15 years. And here's the complicated part: I wasn't miserable. I was growing. I was the one with a big vision connecting dots across functions, asking for more responsibility, building something that mattered. I made big, positive changes there.

And I stayed too long.

Not because I was afraid to leave. Because I kept believing that if I just proved myself one more time, if I came up with one more compelling business idea, leadership would finally listen.

Spoiler: they didn't.

And somewhere around year 12, my mask started slipping. The frustration I thought I'd been so good at managing began leaking out. I could hear it in my own voice during meetings. I caught the edge in my emails before I hit send. Sometimes after.

I didn't like who I was becoming. The person who sighs. Who braces for the battle before the conversation even starts. Who has to work so hard to stay positive that there's nothing left at the end of the day.

That's when I knew. Not when things got bad; things were never all bad. But when staying started costing me myself.

So let me ask: What's the cost of waiting for the "right" answer?

The part nobody talks about

The women I know who feel indecisive, unsure or stuck aren't timid. They're talented, analytical. They're the ones who figure things out and "get shit done."

And somehow, that's part of what keeps them (us) in place.

I used to think "stuck" meant you didn't know what to do. Now I think it's more complicated than that. Sometimes stuck looks like pushing harder.

"I need just one more certification." Or one more successful project, one more attempt to prove you belong at a table that was never built for you.

Smart women get stuck in smart ways

If you're analytical like me, you might recognize a few of these patterns:

The "right answer" addiction
We got where we are by being right. Good grades and gold stars. Somewhere along the way, that pattern became our identity. So when we face a decision without a clear correct answer, we stall. We research. We analyze. We make pros and cons lists that never quite tip us decisively in either direction. Not because it helps, but because it feels like what responsible and smart people do. We've confused preparation with progress.

We've lost the internal compass
Years of small compromises will do that. Adjusting to fit the role, the team, the culture, the relationship. We read what was needed in any given situation and became it. We got so good at accommodation that we lost track of our own shape. Now when someone asks, "what do you want?" we hesitate. Not because we're weak. Because we're genuinely out of practice answering that question.

The loyalty trap
"I can't leave these people. My team needs me. I love who I work with." This one's pervasive and sneaky because it feels noble. We've made ourselves responsible for everyone else's experience. We stay because leaving feels like abandonment. Like betrayal. Seriously. Ask yourself, would a man say that?

It's ingrained for us to be the glue. The ones who hold the team together, remember the birthdays, smooth the tensions, carry the emotional weight of the workplace. And we're good at it. So good that leaving feels like dropping something fragile. Here's the hard truth though: you're not irreplaceable. The company will fill your role. The people you love? You are not respoonsible for them.

The sunk cost trap
"I've already invested so much" in this role, this company, this path and leaving feels like admitting failure. Like all those years were wasted. So we stay, trying to protect an investment we can never get back while spending down the years we still have.

"It could be worse"
We compare down and minimize our own dissatisfaction. "I should be grateful." Or "other people would kill for this job." Gratitude is healthy... using it to silence your own knowing is not.

A year from now, which will you regret more: the change you made or the one you didn't?

You don't have to answer that right now. And you don't have to make the big decision to start getting unstuck. You just need better data on yourself.

Try one of these for a week:

• Track your energy, not your time. At the end of each day, write down one moment you felt like yourself and one moment you didn't. No analysis. Just notice. After a week, look at what you've collected.
• Practice one unqualified opinion. Once a day, answer a question without hedging, apologizing or asking what someone else thinks first. "Where should we go to lunch?" "What do you think of this idea?" Give your answer. See how it feels.
• Let one thing be someone else's problem. Pick something small you've been holding. Don't fix it. Don't manage it. Just... don't. Notice what happens. Notice what it costs you (probably nothing). Notice what it frees up.

These aren't solutions. They're experiments. Small ways to start remembering what you actually think, want and feel -- before you make any big moves.

The clarity you're looking for? It's there. And it comes from action.