Note to Self

It is 1:22 AM.

I am awake clearly because I am writing this.

My mind is running a million miles an hour thinking about all things.

For a moment, I realize that it is the 28-day mark.

28 days later. Four weeks ago. A lifetime ahead. Alihamdulilah

But still my mind races. What shall I do with my life? In what ways shall I be seen?

Somewhere between finding myself in a hospital bed for the first time in my life and slowly regaining my life, my perspective on life changed. I am hungrier than I used to be. I want it so badly. But the question is what is it that I want?

How do I want to be seen?

Someone dear said to me that my life would matter. Soon, you will go to nursing school. And I replied, “but that is not exciting to me”

Becoming a nurse is a career I have chosen. It excites me in a way that is beyond pragmatism. At the same time, I realize it is not enough. This is not the complete picture of my life I want to portray.

I miss being creative. I miss writing. I miss cooking. I miss sewing.

Somewhere in the last year, I abandon a chunk of myself somewhere between heartbreak and moving forward. And the magnificent thing about almost dying is that I see now that those things are me. I am not me without my creative. I am not me if I am not cooking. I am not me if I do not dress well. I am simply not me without the things that make me me.

So I chose to become me again. I have baked more in my time recovering at home than I have in Lord knows how much time. That expensive pot has baked bread because life does not wait until you have fulfilled all your goals to end. I have cut the expensive fabric.

I am doing everything now. No more waiting until…I am doing it now. I am reclaiming my life and reclaiming my passion.

I am someone who is often filled with fear. I have always been afraid of failure. What if I do it wrong? What if I am mocked? What if someone else does it better? Nothing much has changed in the past few weeks. I am still afraid. But this time, my greatest fear is failing at life. What if I am so afraid of failing that I fail to truly live? What moments of laughter, joy, and awe would I miss while I play it safe?

This is the thought that consumes me now. Do not be so afraid of failing that you fail to live.

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