So, there I was last week, humming along, feeling like things were okay, thinking that everything was mostly under control. I may have even had a few daring moments of, "Oh yeah, I've got this." (You know, in reference to life and stuff.)
Then someone I admire offered a bit of unexpected, unsolicited advice. It caught me completely off guard and within about three minutes, I was second guessing my entire existence.
Since then, as the sting gradually fades, I've been thinking about how often I turn to journal writing as a way to sort through my insecurities. There is a helpful distance to be found in the act of turning worries into words and placing them on the page. Once there, I can contemplate them almost from a third person's point of view. I can walk away for awhile if I like. (They'll keep.) When I'm ready, I can think about how to move forward, from a place of perspective. I can get back to humming along with life (and stuff).