Urgency Is Not a Truth Teller.
Urgency and desperation can absolutely describe our experience of a situation. They can surge through the body with such force that everything feels immediate, important, and high-stakes.
But I would love to propose that urgency and desperation are not truth tellers.
I think of them as two best friends who LOVE getting into mischief. They play all kinds of pranks on innocent, survival-based minds that are already beautifully designed to scan for danger, predict problems, and keep us safe.
Urgency and desperation work overtime trying to convince us that if we could just find the right answer, have the right conversation, receive the right reassurance, make the right decision, or think about the problem for another six hours, we would finally feel okay again. We would finally be safe and secure.
When I look back at some of the hardest seasons of my own life, I can see how completely my mind fell for those pranks.
During the years when I experienced chronic hives and angioedema, my lips and eyelids would swell to freakish proportions. At times, my tongue and throat swelled too. Of course my mind believed Urgency and Desperation were the dynamic duo I needed to keep me safe.
The case seemed rock solid. My mind claimed that I made smart decisions because I was urgent and desperate. It insisted that urgency reminded me to carry my EpiPens and that desperation got me to Emergency Department in the nick of time.
Funny how something that appears so true can be so full of cracks.
And thankfully, little by little, I began to see the cracks.
In small moments of stillness, I started seeing the whole experience through a wider lens.
And here's the thing: I carried EpiPens because that made good sense given my medical history. It was that simple. I paid attention to possible triggers because common sense was alive and well. And the trips to the Emergency Department happened most efficiently and smoothly when my mind was the least urgent and desperate.
Wise actions were constantly happening. They simply did not come from the place I had always credited for them.
Urgency and desperation are convincing pretenders because they don’t feel distorted. They feel important. They feel intelligent. They feel responsible.
Recently, I sat with a client who was facing what almost anyone would call an urgent and desperate situation. The evidence seemed miles long: legal issues, financial collapse, and serious health challenges.
Right on cue, her mind desperately wanted to stay in the search for answers.
"I have to narrow this down. I need to make a decision. Missy, help me solve this before our hour is over."
I understood that pull so deeply. When life feels uncertain, the mind naturally wants to search faster, think harder, and close every open loop before it takes another breath.
So I offered her an image.
Imagine that you are a teacup filled with hot water. The water itself is perfectly clear. Then someone drops a tea bag into the cup. Within minutes, every drop of water begins to take on the flavor of whatever is inside that bag. That is simply how tea works. No part of the water remains untouched by what is steeping in it.
Now imagine that Life has dropped in a tea bag flavored with urgency and desperation.
Every idea that arises will carry a hint of urgency. Every possible answer will taste like desperation. Every path forward will seem to demand immediate action regardless of how sound or wise it is.
This doesn’t mean every idea is wrong. It means this is not the clearest moment to decide which idea is wise.
While urgency and desperation are steeping in the cup, we temporarily lose sight of the deeper clarity and wider range of possibilities that are still here.
And this is where something subtle but profound can shift:
The feeling of urgency in the body can become the wake-up.
The tight chest. The clenched stomach. The racing thoughts. The powerful feeling that everything must be solved immediately.
What if those sensations are actually not commands?
What if they are little bells ringing inside the body, saying, "Hey, sweet one. Your world has become very narrow. Your mind is deep inside old, familiar stories. Let’s give the tea a minute to settle."
When I created my first Truth Test in early 2021, urgency was the very first thing I wrote about:
If a thought feels urgent, something false is being believed on a much deeper level.
This is not the moment to take thoughts seriously.
This is the moment to notice, to be held, and to be kind to yourself.
Of course, some minds will immediately turn this into another problem: "But I feel urgent all the time! Am I supposed to sit around and never do anything? How can that possibly be helpful?"
Thankfully, Life does an amazing job of Life-ing even when our minds are lost in Urgency and Desperation.
Appointments will be made. EpiPens will be carried. Papers will be signed. Conversations will happen. Food will be prepared. Children will be cared for. Bodies will move toward the help they need.
Life has been moving us, living us, breathing us all along.
What if our actions do not need to be powered by desperation in order to be responsible? Maybe clarity shines through precisely when it is needed, and not one second before.
Urgency and desperation are free to continue their timeless pranks, but now I know this: they do not get to decide what is true.
And for now, I can remember this simple little reminder from my 2021 Truth Test: the more urgent I feel in a given moment, the more obvious it is that it is time to step back from my adorable, survival-based mind.