"Trust The Process"
We say “trust the process” like it is a promise. It is not. At best, it is a tool that can help reach a fair outcome. At worst, it can drain you while producing something that feels anything but fair.
In the middle of this kind of process, the days blur. You follow every step. You gather documents. You show up. Still, it can be exhausting to watch how the current state persists while the gears turn. In conversations with others going through long and exhausting processes, I keep meeting people who feel isolated, overwhelmed, or invisible. I see them. I see you. If you are reading this and feel alone, you are not.
For every moment where a process delivers fairness, there is someone for whom the same process feels stacked against them. Feeling dismissed or unheard adds a layer of difficulty to an already hard journey, especially when the stakes are your time, your stability, and the well-being of people you love.
I have learned a few things that keep me grounded in this context:
- Define the outcome that truly matters. For me that has meant clarity on safety, stability, and continuity for those who depend on me. When that is clear, the details shrink to size. Direction gives stamina.
- Own your lane. In the name of convenience, I have let others steer. That can become a disservice. If you hand over too much of the process, you risk changing the outcome. Know what you must say, sign, and schedule yourself.
- Document more than you think you need. Dates, times, messages, handovers, expenses, commitments kept. Accurate records reduce ambiguity and protect everyone, including you.
- Decide when to flow and when to push. Not every delay is worth a fight. Some are. The difference is whether the core outcome is at risk. If it is, raise it early and in writing.
- Care for the humans, including yourself. Sleep, food, routine, and a calm handover help more than perfect wording in a letter. People remember consistency and presence.
I do not blindly trust the process, and neither should you. Processes are made by people. They can be flawed, slow, or biased. I trust the outcome I need to reach. Naming that outcome makes this part of the journey easier. It guides when to accept friction and when to escalate.
Another lesson is the long game. I prefer quick resolution. This work often requires discomfort, uncertainty, and setbacks. It asks you to hold out for the right outcome even when the present feels unfair. The long game is not easy, but sometimes it is the only path to a resolution that truly matters. If you are in the thick of it, patience and perseverance are as much a part of the process as any form or hearing.
If you are navigating your own situation, you are not alone. There is strength in sharing and in knowing others are out there in the same waters. My specific challenges are not ones I can publish here, but I am open to listen and share.
This experience has also changed how I think about process design. I used to say “trust the process” without thinking about how it feels when you are stuck in the middle. Now I pay more attention to the people who cannot wait it out or absorb setbacks. Missed work, last-minute changes, and repeated requests are not minor when resources are tight and emotions are high. We can do better at spotting where a small inconvenience for one person is a real hardship for someone else, and then adjusting the process so fairness is practical, not just theoretical.
Trust the outcome. Use the process. Keep your footing in the middle.