If there’s anything that keeps me and my psychotherapist colleagues in business, it’s uncertainty. You can dance on the horns of a dilemma for only so long before obsession, anxiety, depression — the staples of mental unease — set in.

The need to resolve uncertainty feels urgent and only sharpens the suffering of not knowing. As much as we might like, and no matter how hard we try, we cannot know the future — about an election or anything else.

The accountability office said many of those systems “have critical operational impacts” on air traffic safety and efficiency. Many of them are also facing “challenges that are historically problematic for aging systems,” according to the report.

Robinson’s history of comments that have been widely criticized as antisemitic and anti-gay made him a deeply polarizing figure in North Carolina long before his bid for governor was upended last week by a CNN report that he had called himself a “Black NAZI” and praised slavery while posting on a pornographic website between 2008 and 2012. Now, some of his allies are abandoning him. Most of his senior campaign staff members have resigned. The Republican Governors Association said that its pro-Robinson ads would expire tomorrow and that no new ones had been placed. And former President Donald Trump, who endorsed Robinson in the spring, calling him “Martin Luther King on steroids,” did not mention him once during his rally in the state over the weekend.

This feels cruel, not only because life continually presents us with ambiguity, but also because our brain is a prediction machine. As the philosopher Andy Clark puts it, the mind is “a kind of constantly running simulation of the world around us — or at least, the world as it matters to us.”

We have a mental model of how the world works, and we update it as we get new information. When new information is ambiguous, we get confused, and if the confusion cannot resolve, we suffer. Live with someone who treated you well yesterday and abusively today, your ability to predict is diminished, and with it the confidence to make a choice. Next stop, my office, where you are sure to hear that you have to learn not only to tolerate the uncertainty of making a decision, but also to welcome it, to explore and elucidate it, so that you can carry that knowledge into the future.

Which is all well and fine if the uncertainty is about whether to leave a marriage (or get into one), or what to do when someone you love is hurting you, or any of the other matters that bring people in to see me. While my clients haven’t stopped having those dilemmas, their uncertainty these days focuses on a matter about which they can decide all they want — and they will, when they vote — but they will remain uncertain about the outcome. I don’t think a single therapy hour has passed in the past month without at least a mention of the presidential election, and not as a pleasantry, like a comment on the weather, but as a source of sleeplessness or jitters or some other kind of psychic suffering. Their future is unknown, and the data with which to update their models — polls and pundits and talks with their neighbors — only reinforces the uncertainty.

I don’t poll my clients for their political leanings, but if I had to guess, I’d say they skew Harris, or at least not-Trump. But everyone, including the Trumpers, seems equally unsure about what will happen and plagued by not knowing. Their fears, as befits our thoroughly polarized times, are mirror images of each other: millions of people rounded up, interned and deported; millions of people swarming over the southern border to rape and pillage. Because one of these worries is more based in fact than the other, I support the fears and outrage of the Harrisers, while trying, as sympathetically as possible, to suggest that the Trump supporters check their facts, or even reminding them of the awful legacy that has come from politicians who speak of targeting the “enemy from within.”

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