September Journaling Prompts

Facing the fear of choosing the unfamiliar, and how we can transform what scares us into what inspires us

It’s September and I have more questions than answers.

Sometimes I get struck with loneliness.

A cowering reminder of love lost, and the admission that I’m afraid of being alone. Small doubts that creep in and ooze fear of being left behind: Am I doing enough? Does my life matter? And in the end, will it be different than the one I hoped for?

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more on this concept of being left behind/not living up to my potential in the post below:

What happens when we let go of control

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This morning I cried on my couch and wondered if I was being left behind. I wondered if I’d lost the chance to live up to my potential. If by working so hard in therapy to reduce the pressure I place on myself to succeed or make an impact, I’d overcorrected and lost all sense of purpose or motivation.

What do I care about? And what am I working towards? Can I find joy in being totally present or will I feel empty without purpose? Does having a goal keep me tethered to something in a way that’s helpful, or constantly fixated on a future that isn’t here? How do I stay with myself right here, right now, and still create a vision for my life so I don’t waste my time—and is time mine to waste?

These questions boiled all morning and I could feel myself getting hotter.

Fear crept in as the questions opened me up to the not knowing, and suddenly I found myself in a sea of uncertainty. Swimming in an open body of water with infinite directions and a blazing sun that demand I seek land soon.

For years I’ve swam towards what I’ve seen others swim to: Fame, financial freedom, love, beauty. I’ve seen pictures and heard stories of the vibrant lives people have on these bodies of land. Joy and ease, freedom and prosperity, romance and safety in a lover’s arms…a fairytale ending with a paid fast-track and plenty of options to upgrade along the way.

I swim and swim to these places, and sometimes touch the sand with my fingertips. Crawling up the beaches of the dreamlands, I often collapse in the heat of it all, breathless and starving from the journey. I’m there—in the fantasy, in the promise of finally having it all—and I’m dying.

When this happens I throw myself back to sea. I promise myself to never swim to a place that asks me to die getting there. I promise myself to seek lands that invite me in and offer lifeboats and rescue parties. I promise myself that if I get back out to sea and feel scared and uncertain again, I’ll remember not to swim back to what’s dangerous, even if it’s familiar.

I’m here again, in the open sea.

Noticing the vastness around me and growing fearful of what’s next. Unsure of where to go because it’s all so unknown, and what if I go the wrong way? What if the land I seek refuge on next is worse than the one I know so well?

I remind myself that if I can swim back and forth again and again to the place I know hurts me, I can take a chance and swim somewhere new just once. That if it’s not the place for me, I can come back to this part of the water where I get to choose again. That just because something is familiar, doesn’t mean it’s safe.

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