The Rope Bridge
- Canterbury Village Counsellor
- Jul 2
- 5 min read
I often think there is a point in life that feels a bit like standing on one of those rope bridges from an Indiana Jones film.
You know the scene -the bridge is swaying beneath his feet. On one side are the enemies chasing him, on the other side are more enemies waiting for him. And somewhere below are crocodiles, or possibly alligators. Either way, they seem keen for him to fall, and neither direction feels particularly safe.
Both options carry risk - and that is one reason I think the metaphor works so well for periods of change.
Many people imagine that growth involves moving from something difficult towards something obviously better, but in reality, it can feel more like choosing between two uncertainties. Staying feels uncomfortable -moving forward feels uncomfortable, going back no longer feels possible.
So we find ourselves standing in the middle, wondering what on earth we’re supposed to do next. Most of us imagine that when we know the right decision, we will feel confident about it. We will be certain or ready. But that is rarely how change works.
Sometimes we know something needs to change long before we know what comes next:
A relationship no longer feels right.
The way we’ve always coped is becoming exhausting.
The role we’ve always played in our family no longer fits.
The job we’ve spent years building no longer feels meaningful.
Something has shifted.
The trouble is that recognising something isn’t working doesn’t automatically tell us what to do instead, so we find ourselves in a strange position. Not where we were or where we’re going -just somewhere in between.
I think this is one of the most difficult places a person can be.
Partly because there are no obvious answers, but mostly because uncertainty has a way of making us question ourselves. We start looking for guarantees, and we want reassurance that if we take the leap, things will work out. We want certainty that the relationship will improve or that the new job will be better. That the boundary we’re considering setting won’t destroy everything.
We want someone to tell us we’re making the right choice but unfortunately, life rarely offers that kind of certainty. Instead, it often asks us to move before we know how the story ends and that can feel deeply unfair. Most of us were taught that confidence comes first -that once we’re ready, we’ll take action. Yet when I think about the biggest decisions people make, including some of my own, that doesn’t seem to be how it happens:
People leave relationships while still doubting themselves.
People change careers while feeling terrified.
People set boundaries while worrying they are being selfish.
People take steps forward while carrying uncertainty with them.
Confidence often arrives later -sometimes much later.
I think this is where many people become stuck. Not because they don’t know something needs to change, but because they are waiting for a feeling that may never arrive -they’re waiting to feel completely ready, completely certain, or completely fearless.
The difficulty is that those conditions rarely exist, if they did, change would be easy, and the bridge wouldn’t feel frightening. The problem is that growth often asks us to tolerate not knowing:
Not knowing how others will react.
Not knowing whether we’ll succeed.
Not knowing who we’ll be once we let go of familiar ways of being.
And familiarity has a powerful pull.
Human beings can tolerate a surprising amount of discomfort when it is predictable, even when something is painful, there can be comfort in knowing what to expect. The unknown is different, and the unknown asks more of us.
This is one reason why people sometimes remain in situations that no longer serve them. Not because they enjoy them or because they are weak, but because the future feels harder to trust than the present. At least with what we know, we know where we stand.
I often wonder if we underestimate the grief involved in change, because even positive change can involve loss:
When we stop people pleasing, we may lose the identity of being the dependable one.
When we leave a relationship, we lose the future we imagined.
When we challenge old beliefs about ourselves, we lose something familiar, even if it was limiting us.
Perhaps this is why change can feel both hopeful and painful at the same time. Part of us is moving towards something whilst the other part of us is letting something go. And both deserve acknowledgement.
One of the things I notice in therapy is how quickly people assume they are doing something wrong when they reach this point. They think the anxiety means they are making a mistake or the uncertainty is a warning sign. They think feeling lost means they have taken a wrong turn.
But what if these experiences are not signs of failure? What if they are simply part of standing on the bridge? What if uncertainty isn’t always evidence that you’re heading in the wrong direction? What if it is sometimes evidence that you’re leaving something familiar behind before you’ve fully arrived somewhere new?
I suspect many of us spend periods of our lives standing on that bridge. Looking back. Looking ahead. Wondering if we’re ready. The truth is that there may never be a perfect moment. No flashing sign, no guarantee and no magical feeling of certainty. Sometimes all we have is the next step, because perhaps growth is not about feeling fearless before we take it. Perhaps it is about learning that we can carry our uncertainty with us and move anyway.
About the Author
I’m Sarah, a counsellor based in Canterbury, UK. I work remotely and face-to-face with adults experiencing anxiety, relationship difficulties, low self-esteem, life transitions, and the challenges that come with being human.
Alongside my counselling work, I write about therapy, relationships, personal growth, and the gap between psychological advice and the realities of everyday life.
You can find out more about my counselling practice at:
If you enjoyed this article, you'll find my latest writing on The Village Counsellor on Substack. I publish new blogs there first, along with additional thoughts and deeper explorations of each month's theme:
A Note About This Publication
The articles and reflections shared here are intended for educational, informational, and leisure purposes only. They are not a substitute for therapy, counselling, medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment.
Reading about psychological ideas can sometimes offer insight, but it is not the same as having a therapeutic relationship with a qualified professional. If you are struggling with your mental health or need personal support, please seek appropriate professional help.
