I have this dream that I think about when I walk home sometimes. It's about me and a flower-shop; me in a flower-shop. I have no idea where this dream originated, but I know that when I think about that flower-shop, of opening one up, it means that I am scared of life. It means that I am intimidated and unsure of the work I am doing and where I am going.
Night before teaching my first supervision this term and I feel so ill-prepared. I feel like I haven't worked hard enough, pushed hard enough, everything enough. Why, in such crucial moments, does my mind feel blank? Like I cannot react and respond and think critically enough, where my brain feels completely empty of all that it has learned and engaged with these seven-over years?
Desperate times call for desperate measures. But what are such measures? I feel like I am in desperate times and I have no idea how I got here. All I know is that I woke up one morning after Christmas and felt so at loss. Then the unravelling of everything I feel like I worked hard to grasp last term, and the descent into meaninglessness. I miss my family. Having them come visit for a week made me realise that I really cannot live without them. I need them. I love them. And so I ask myself what I am doing, what this work is for, and at the end of everything, what really matters. I feel so lost and I loath that I am moving in slow motion. If only my eyes could see; if only my heart could hope.
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