Fear of Wasting Time: What Are You Really Protecting?

“I don’t want to waste my time” can sound like a sensible reason to wait, walk away or leave something unexplored.

But what if time isn’t the real issue?

In this episode of Sky High Coaching Conversations, Janelle looks beneath one of our most convincing explanations for not beginning. Whether it’s a career move, relationship, conversation, course, idea or change you’ve been circling, the desire to use your time wisely may be hiding a more uncomfortable question.

What would you choose if you didn’t need to know exactly how it would turn out?

This episode will challenge the way you think about uncertainty, the value of experiences that don’t deliver the result you expected and the time quietly being used while you wait for certainty.

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Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:52

Hello, welcome to or welcome back to Sky High Coaching Conversations. I'm Janelle Ryan. I'm so happy you decided to join me today. And as always, I invite you, as you're listening along, to notice what comes up for you. You don't have to agree with anything I say today. I encourage you to listen for your own insight, your own thoughts, your own ideas, maybe even a little bit of an aha moment. And if you can, note them down. And then when the episode's complete, you can decide what you would like to do with that information. So let's dive in. There's a sentence many of us use when we're making decisions about our lives, our work, our relationships, our health, all the possibilities in front of us. I don't want to waste my time. It sounds really sensible, doesn't it? It's responsible, it's mature, perhaps it's even wise. Because time is one of the few resources available to us that is genuinely non-renewable. Isn't it? Once a moment's past, we can't retrieve it, we can't save it for later, we can't negotiate to have it returned. My friend, there is no refunds, exchanges, or store credits available. We know our time is valuable, which is probably why we've become so conscious of how we spend it. And I agree we should be conscious of it. I don't believe we should say yes to every opportunity, continue with something that's no longer right for us, or give our time and energy to people, projects, and commitments that we don't truly want. And there are also periods in our lives when our responsibilities are enormous, our energy is limited, and we're already carrying as much as we can. Sometimes we genuinely don't have the time or capacity to add something else. But I've come to believe that I don't want to waste my time has also become one of our biggest and most socially acceptable excuses. Because sometimes what we call protecting our time is actually protecting ourselves. We say we don't have time to explore the idea, apply for the role, begin the course, write the book, make the connection, have the conversation, go to the gym, go to Pilates, go to yoga, go for the walk, go for the bike ride, change direction, ask for support, or discover what else might be possible. Yet underneath, I don't want to waste my time, maybe something much more vulnerable. What if I give this my time and it doesn't work? What if I try? What if I begin? What if I dive in and nothing changes? What if I allow myself to become excited and end up feeling disappointed? What if I make the wrong decision? So time becomes the explanation because it's much easier to say, I don't have time for that, than it is to say, I'm afraid to try it without knowing how it will turn out. So I'm going to share a personal story with you. Years ago, when I was in a leadership role, a 24-year-old member of my team came to speak with me about a decision he was considering. He was thinking about applying for a bachelor degree, so going to university. Because he would need to continue working, he would have to complete the degree part-time outside his normal working hours. And it was going to take him six years, which was his biggest concern. Because six years felt like a very long time to him. And when you're 24, 30 can seem like a distant and possibly ancient age, right? So I said to him, you're going to be 30 anyway. Do you want to be 30 with a degree or 30 without one? You can be 30 with a degree, or you can be 30 without one. You're going to turn 30 anyway. What do you want? That's the question. I wasn't telling him that university was the right decision. I couldn't know that. And it wasn't my decision to make anyway, right? I was encouraging him not to allow the length of time to make the decision for him. Whether he enrolled or not, those six years were still going to pass. His 30th birthday wasn't going to wait and see what he decided. The calendar wasn't going to pause out of respect for his uncertainty. The time was going to pass anyway. We do this more often than we realize. We look at how long something will take and use that as a reason not to begin. We tell ourselves it will take too many months or too many years. We think about the amount of work involved, how old we'll be when it's finished, and how far away the outcome seems. Imagine how differently you might feel if the outcome was guaranteed. If you knew the date would grow into a wonderful relationship, would meeting the person feel like a waste of time? If you knew the interview would lead to the promotion, would you find time to prepare and apply for it? And prepare for the interview, right? Apply for the job, prepare for the interview. Would time suddenly become easier to find? One of the lines I love using with my clients is if you did this for a week or a month and I gave you a million dollars as a reward, or two million dollars, or ten million dollars, would you suddenly find the time? Think about that one. Perhaps time would be easier to find if we had some kind of guarantee. That's one of the clues that time may not be the real problem. Often what we actually want is certainty. We want proof that the time, energy, money, and vulnerability we give will produce the result we're hoping for. We want to know the relationship will last for allowing ourselves to love. We want to know the idea will succeed before we commit to it. We want to know we'll be chosen for putting ourselves forward. We want life to give us the results in advance so we can decide whether the experience is worth beginning. And unfortunately, my beautiful friend, life rarely works that way. Most of the decisions that shape our lives ask us to move before we know exactly where they'll lead. We don't receive the final chapter before deciding whether to read the book. We don't receive the outcome before having the experience. And that uncertainty can feel uncomfortable, particularly for intelligent, thoughtful people who are accustomed to making well-considered decisions. We research, we prepare, we weigh the possibilities, we think about what could go right and what could go wrong. We consider the effect on other people, our responsibilities, and everything else we're already committed to. And all of that can be really useful. But there comes a point when further thinking isn't creating clarity. It's asking for a guarantee that no amount of thinking can provide. And I also think we've become accustomed to expecting a return on every moment of our lives. And much of modern life teaches us to measure the value of an experience by what it produces. Think about this. This is life, modern life has taught us this. If I do this thing, will it lead somewhere? Will I achieve something? Will I gain something that I can point to or count or share or prove? Like even relaxation has become something we assess afterwards, don't we? Did I relax enough? Did I make the most of the weekend? Did I use my holiday well? We can turn almost anything into a performance review. Now, without realizing it, this way of thinking can spread into every part of our lives. We begin expecting a guaranteed return on our time. If the conversation doesn't lead to an opportunity, was there any point having it? If a relationship ends, were those years wasted? If the business idea doesn't become profitable, was the effort worthwhile? If the creative project isn't widely recognized, was it worth beginning? But that reduces an entire experience into its final visible outcome. It ignores what we discovered, what we practiced, who we met, what we enjoyed, and how the experience changed us. Not everything valuable arrives in the form we expected. A conversation may not lead to the opportunity we imagined, but it may change what we understand about ourselves. A relationship can end without every moment of that relationship having been a mistake. A project may not become the success we pictured, but it may reveal an ability, desire, or direction we couldn't have discovered while standing safely on the sidelines. That health quest may not have given us a washboard stomach. I don't know if that's something you want. But maybe there's some medication you're not taking anymore. Maybe you can't run or you're not ready to run a half marathon, but now you can walk five kilometers when before you couldn't. Finding out that you love something, finding out that you don't, finding out that you're more interested, creative, courageous, or resourceful than you realized. Finding out that the idea needs to change shape, finding out that you're ready for something different. Finding out can be enormously valuable, even when the answer isn't one you originally hoped to receive. And here's something else we often forget: avoidance uses time to. Choosing not to act doesn't place our time safely back into an account for future use. The time continues to pass. We may decide not to spend three months exploring an idea, then spend three years wondering whether we should have. We may avoid our an hour-long conversation, then spend countless hours replaying the situation, usually at 3 a.m., feeling frustrated and imagining what we could have, should have said. We may decide not to apply for a role because we're unsure whether we'll be successful. Then watch someone else take the opportunity and wonder whether it could have been ours. Indecision uses time. It also uses energy and attention. We think about the possibility, move away from it, return to it, talk ourselves into it, talk ourselves out of it, and wonder why we still feel unsettled. We tell ourselves we're waiting for clarity while avoiding the very step that is probably going to create it. Because clarity often comes through participation, taking the step, moving forward. We learn by entering the conversation, trying the class, asking the question, meeting the person, taking one small step towards the thing we've been contemplating. There's information you can gather through thought, research, and preparation. Absolutely, there is. And then there's information that only becomes available once you begin participating in the experience. You may not know how you feel about a new direction until you explore it. You may not know whether someone is open to the conversation until you speak with them. You may not know whether the idea has potential until you begin working with it. You may not know whether you belong in the room until you enter it and allow yourself to be there. At some point, we have to stop trying to think our way into knowing everything and experience will teach us. At some point, we have to live a little of it. An uncertain outcome isn't automatically wasted time. There's a difference between something being unsuccessful and something being worthless. There's also a difference between an experience ending and an experience failing. I have a beautiful coach friend who taught me a saying or shared one of her sayings with me that I often share with others. Just because it's finished doesn't mean you failed. We can stop doing something without making the time we gave it meaningless. We can change our minds without criticizing the early version, earlier, excuse me, version of ourselves who made the original decision. That version of you made a decision using the information, experience, resources, and self-awareness available at the time. You're allowed to gather more information and choose again. None of this means saying yes to everything. It doesn't mean ignoring your responsibilities, abandoning your discernment, or continuing to invest your time in something you no longer want. Your time is valuable. So are your energy, health, relationships, and commitments. The invitation is to notice whether you're making a clear decision or asking for a guarantee that no one can give you. Clarity might say, This is not where I want to place my time and energy. Fear says, I can't begin until I know how it will end. Clarity can feel calm even when the decision itself is difficult or disappointing. There may be, you know, sadness or uncertainty, but something in you knows the answer, right? You just know it. Fear tends to keep reopening the question. It asks for more proof, more preparation, more certainty. Perhaps one more qualification, one more spreadsheet, one more week of research, one more conversation with someone who can offer an opinion, but you know what? Here's the thing: they still can't make the decision for you. Now, of course, clarity and fear aren't always easy to distinguish. Our minds are very clever. Fear can sound highly intelligent. It can arrive with a beautifully prepared presentation, explaining why now isn't the right time. This isn't about judging yourself for feeling afraid. Fear often appears because you care, because that possibility means something to you. Because allowing yourself to want it also means accepting that you could be disappointed. But fear doesn't need to make the decision. When you're considering a change, an opportunity, or something you deeply want, you may automatically ask, will this be worth my time? When perhaps there are more useful questions. What could I discover by giving this a chance? What will continuing to avoid it cost me? Am I genuinely choosing not to do this, or am I frightened of what might happen if I try? And finally, who do I want to be when this time has passed? You don't need to know this entire effort today. You may not need to commit the next six years, twelve months, or even six months. Perhaps it's just about taking one honest step. Send the email, ask the question, have the initial conversation, read the course information, begin the first page, put your name forward, attend the class, go to the um, you know, come and try free day. Allow yourself to explore the possibility without demanding that it prove its value before it's even begun. One step is not a lifetime contract, it's participation. It gives you something more useful than another round of thinking. It gives you information, experience, and contact with what is actually happening rather than what fear predicts might happen. So, my beautiful friend, what have you been calling a waste of time because you can't guarantee the result? Perhaps there's a conversation you keep postponing, a decision you've been circling, a new direction that continues to call your attention, something you'd love to create, change, or experience, but you've been waiting to feel completely certain before allowing yourself to move. You may discover that time isn't really the obstacle. Perhaps you're protecting yourself from disappointment, failure, rejection, or the possibility of making a decision you later change. And that is deeply human. But you don't need complete certainty to give something a chance. If you're finding your voice, growing your confidence, or learning to trust yourself more deeply in your work and leadership, the unshakable woman blueprint is a free place to begin. The time you spend waiting to feel completely ready, certain, or confident is still time. This blueprint will help you begin using it to become more of the person and leader you already know you want to be. And I'll pop a link in the show notes for this absolutely free resource. If you've already achieved a great deal and now you find yourself wondering what you want the next part of your life to hold, success was the warm-up, is a blueprint that will help you explore what feels meaningful, exciting, and deeply yours right now. So rather than allowing the months or years ahead to fill themselves, it invites you to consider how you want to live them, what you want to give your energy to, and who you want to be as your next chapter unfolds. And I'll pop that link in the show notes. And it is also a complimentary, free gift from me. Now, if you want to go deeper than that with me as your coach, this is the work we do inside the Soft Strength Salon. Over six months, you're supported to stop circling the same questions, explore what you truly want, make decisions that feel right for you, and begin moving towards them with greater confidence and self-trust. Now, six months can pass while you're still wondering. And I have had multiple women come into the salon who said they sat in indecision for years, and when they came in, they said, Oh, I wish I'd come in earlier. But I say back to them, it's always when the time's right. So six months can pass while you're still wondering, or they can become six months in which something begins to change. Because, as we said, as this whole conversation has been, well, not the whole conversation, but a lot of the conversation has been about the time is going to pass anyway. You don't have to pursue every possibility. You don't have to say yes to everything. But perhaps you can make the decision based on what you truly want, rather than asking time to disguise your fear. Perhaps the greater waste is spending years circling something you deeply want while calling your fear good time management. The time's going to pass anyway. The question is: who do you want to be? What do you want to have explored? And what would you have loved to have created when it does? Until next time, thank you so much for joining me on the airwaves today. I will um connect with you next time. Enjoy the rest of your day. Keep expanding, creating, and leading. Bye.