January 1, 2025 Journal Entry.
This year is brand new, a blank canvas promising fresh starts. Yet, here I am, staring at it with a furrowed brow, the weight of indecision settling heavily on my shoulders. What kind of “career” will I pursue? The question hangs in the air, mocking me with its simplicity.
This morning, a fleeting idea sparked within me – a blog. I imagined myself pouring my thoughts onto a digital page, sharing my musings with the world. But the enthusiasm quickly fizzled out, replaced by a wave of self-doubt. What would I even write about? Who would care about my ramblings?
Last night, I had contemplated becoming a life coach. After all, hadn’t life thrown enough curve balls my way to qualify me as an expert in navigating its twists and turns? Past relationships, the battle with cancer, the constant self-reflection – they had all left their mark, shaping me into someone different, someone wiser. But then, the imposter syndrome crept in. Wouldn’t the ones who had learned the hard way, be the best at giving advice?
My brain feels like a sponge, desperate to absorb knowledge. My college degree in Sociology and Psychology seem inadequate now. I crave more, a deeper understanding of the human psyche, a connection to something beyond the tangible. And what about that intuitive side of me, the one that whispers of spiritual mediumship? Where do I find the space, the balance, to explore these burgeoning interests?
The pain in my back, a constant, unwelcome reminder of the cancer that once held me captive, is a heavy anchor. The T4 vertebra, where they extracted a piece of my bone, throbs with a dull ache, a haunting echo of the past. Is it back? The fear, like a venomous spider, spins a web of anxiety in my mind.
We are all haunted, aren’t we? By ghosts of the past, by unfulfilled dreams, by the nagging feeling that we are somehow lost, adrift in a sea of uncertainty.