Learning in the Fog

Sometimes I catch myself thinking I’ll win the lottery.
Not because I believe it, but because I’m desperate for something to shift.
And then I scold myself.
Why would I think that?
What’s wrong with me?

I know I’m not being realistic.
I know that even with a steady job, the math doesn’t add up.
I overthink everything.
I second-guess myself.
And I wonder if I’m even doing what I’m supposed to be doing.

No one handed me a map.
No one told me what success looks like.
So I’ve been piecing it together from fragments—assumptions, interpretations, half-remembered advice.

I don’t want to take advantage of anyone.
I don’t want to bring people down.
But I dig.
I search.
I ask questions that make others uncomfortable.

Why do I do that?

Maybe because I want to understand.
Maybe because I want to be better.
Maybe because I’m afraid I’m not enough.

I worry that eventually, I’ll be seen as a financial liability.
That I’m not making progress.
That I’m too gullible.
Too trusting of sources I shouldn’t be.
That my critical thinking is flawed.
That I make people uneasy.

So I ask:
What’s the priority?
What’s the fire that needs putting out?
How do you control an escalated issue?

These are things I need to learn.
Not just for others, but for myself.

I need to let go of past mistakes.
Of shame.
Of guilt.
Of the moments when I didn’t speak up, or spoke too much.

I remember a former boss who tried to use me.
She didn’t consider that I didn’t like her.
She didn’t consider that I was working a low-wage job and still had a brain.
I understand why she did it.
But I also understand that I’m not here to be someone’s pawn.

I’m here to learn.
To grow.
To figure out what it means to be effective, not just obedient.

And maybe that starts with trusting myself.
Even in the fog.
Even when the map is missing.