I’ve been doing a lot of cross-country driving these past couple of months. Recently, while driving through the Blue Mountains, a warning sign flashed: Caution. Limited visibility.

I thought, How bad can it be?

A few minutes later, I was completely enveloped in fog.

I could barely see the red tail lights in front of me. The road was steep and winding. Semi-trucks appeared out of nowhere. Visibility shrank to maybe ten feet. It was disorienting — and honestly, a little panic-inducing.

But something else happened in that fog.

I became fully present.

There was no adjusting my Spotify playlist. No mental multitasking. No autopilot. I had to slow down and focus only on what was directly in front of me: the tail lights, the painted lines, the next few feet of road.

And that’s what survival moments do. They strip everything away that isn’t essential.

The fog lasted maybe five or ten minutes before it cleared as I descended into the valley. But the metaphor has stayed with me.

How many times have I felt lost, foggy, unsure of what’s next? More times than I can count. And yet — the fog always clears. Not on my timeline. Not according to when I think it should. But it clears.

Transitions — especially career transitions — are full of fog.

When we’re considering change, uncertainty becomes chronic. Our brains don’t like uncertainty. Under stress, our thinking narrows. We struggle to process information. We doubt ourselves. We either freeze… or we act impulsively just to escape the discomfort.

Freezing would have meant pulling over on that mountain and waiting indefinitely for the fog to lift. That might have felt safer in the moment, but it would have actually increased the risk — for me and for others who couldn’t see me.

Speeding down the mountain “to get it over with” would have been just as dangerous.

The only workable strategy was this: slow down and focus on the ten feet in front of me.

Not the entire mountain. Not the whole descent. Just the next stretch of pavement.

That’s often what moving through a career transition requires.

Not a five-year plan.
Not total clarity.
Not certainty.

Just the next step.

Maybe it’s updating your resume.
Maybe it’s having one conversation.
Maybe it’s sending a follow-up email.
Maybe it’s simply putting the dishes away so your nervous system can settle.

When we stay still, waiting for full clarity, the view doesn’t change. The road reveals itself as we move.

Fog is uncomfortable. It can be scary. It can make us doubt our ability to navigate at all.

But fog is also temporary.

If you’re in a season where you can’t see very far ahead, consider this: You don’t need to see the entire road. You only need to see the next ten feet.

Keep moving. The rest will reveal itself.