I have not written much lately, even in my safe black leather bound journal. I honestly don't even know what to write or feel anymore. This has been one of the most confusing seasons of my life. If I thought at any point in the last few years that I had achieved some greatness of truth or developed a bit of wisdom from years of actively living, then I now know that I was wrong. I feel like any value or any knowledge that I might have been able to contribute to the world at large has vanished. I wake up each day more and more unsure of who I am and why I am still here. If I could stay in my small bubble of one away from others, this actually wouldn't be all that bad. It could even feel comforting to have such little accountability. But, I don't have that luxury. I have teenagers to finish raising and a husband that needs a partner. I have friends that my put together appearance has fooled into believing that I can still offer advice or help with paint color choices. In essence, my small world seems to think that I still have value. But, I feel more like a hollowed out shell. I am not sure if I am a sham of what I once was or if the sham that I have always been is now exposed.
Perhaps, this is a chance at a new beginning for me. Thanks to cancer, my slate has been wiped clean. Maybe, I can start over as I attain new knowledge and wisdom born from a place of true brokenness. It is possible and even probable, but for now I am still empty. I am a person that has nothing to give and this makes me feel ashamed.