“Sometimes, there is death in living.”
-Unknown
I’ve learned these past few months that I am happy living like this. I originally planned my future living in seclusion at least a couple of decades ago. And during these times, I’ve nothing but anxiety and grief of not being productive. Beating myself up because I’ve done absolutely nothing. I’ve asked myself all too much if I’d still want to continue being a physician. Why in the first place have I let myself be in this far when all I ever dreamed was to be away from physical contact? Of other people’s woes? Let alone outright asks what pains them? The horror.
But some moments, such as now, I’d like to be more than what I dreamed. I needed to know more than what I’m contented of. I may not be as thirsty for success as most people but somehow, I’d wish to learn more. And that throws my preconceptions of a perfectly laid out peaceful future.
Sometimes I’d be too awed of how people thrive each day that I found myself too intimidated of the tasks at hand. In the end I’ve spent years doing nothing and barely getting by. Lived a life of self-loath. Why can’t I do these simple things? Why can’t I barely stay focused? Why can’t I do anything right? These are all of too many insecurities that I’ve braved. Some days, I find myself thinking why am I even living?
As days goes by, seeking for an answer and as tired of barely getting by all these years, I am consoled of having my constant throughout the depths of this abyssal darkness and uncertainties, the Lord would always be there guiding, lighting a spark time and time again. Sometimes, all we need is a little prayer all these years. One that is kind and one that is true.
Does It Matter 