An Open Letter to Anyone Who Feels Like They're Walking on Sand

The thirty-fourth one

Dear Friend,

Have you ever tried connecting the dots of ordinary moments to make sense of something big and sudden? Then after that big and sudden moment you carefully follow the ripple effects hoping to predict what’s going to happen next or at least explain what just happened so that you believe it was meant for a reason?

That’s what I used do. And it’s why I’m not the same person I was the last time we met, when I wrote you from the wilderness.

What do you do when you stop trusting in yourself?

I’ve been watching a new show called The Pitt on HBO, and I’m obsessed. It’s so strange because I’ve never considered myself a fan of doctor dramas (except for a few episodes of House). But this show has me hooked. Not because of the interpersonal drama (though there’s plenty), or the almost-superhuman ways they save patients. Not even because of the emotional sacrifices they make so others can go home. What keeps me watching is the internal conflict. The moral gray areas. When do you choose to speak up, even when it risks your job? When do you help someone who hasn’t asked for help, but clearly needs it? When do you decide to forgive someone who hasn’t apologized?

Mostly, just when do you trust in yourself?

We throw around phrases like “trust your gut,” but really that means: trust your experience, your judgment, your humanity. I’ve been doing that for years, relying on my own strength and resourcefulness, and somehow, I keep coming up short. And just when I think I’ve got it all together, life humbles me. It reminds me I’m not in control and that realization shakes my confidence and always leaves me feeling so small and inadequate.

We’re only five months into this year and already it’s been such a whirlwind of emotions for me: fear, anger, despair, hope. One moment I feel unstoppable and the next I’m crying on the bathroom floor, or in my car, or on the train, or at my desk, wondering how it all fell apart.

A text I sent a few weeks ago!

For me, it’s like every time I finally find my footing, the rug is pulled out from under me. My confidence and clarity gets shattered and I start second-guessing every instinct or so-called “wise” decision I’ve made.

There was this episode of The Pitt where a new doctor made a bold call and saved a patient’s life. She trusted her gut and she was right. That decision vindicated her and returned her confidence. But by the next episode, she was reprimanded for that very confidence and was told by her superior that she was too new to be this bold, that her job was to be quiet and learn and stay in her lane. Its always something, right?

So again I ask: What do you do when you no longer trust in yourself?

Well…you live free.

You let go and stop clenching so tightly to outcomes. You live with open hands just letting things come and go without panic. I’ve learned this lesson time and time again, but this time I’m pursuing remembrance because the only thing certain in this life is uncertainty. And I’ve realized I can either keep fighting it, wearing myself out trying to control the uncontrollable… or I can surrender.

I’ve come to wholeheartedly believe that it’s not just that what’s meant for me will be mine, although that’s partly true. But it’s that what’s meant for me will be mine in its due season and it will only stay for a season. And when that season ends, even if it ends abruptly, I have to release it freely so there’s room for whatever comes next. And in that release, there is no audit. No piecing everything together to make perfect sense of it all. Because there’s no promise that I’ll ever understand why certain things happen the way they do.

So I let go and mourn for a day, and wait for joy to return in the morning because if I linger and obsess over every detail, trying to decode uncertainty, I wouldn’t be able to say, truthfully, that I’ve changed. And what a pity that would be… to go through all of this and somehow stay the same!

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So, to the one who wonders when confidence became a stranger and used to move with clarity but now walks unsure, you’re not alone.

Losing trust in yourself doesn’t mean you’re failing, it means you’re human. And maybe the best kind of trust isn’t rooted in your own strength. Maybe the most freeing thing is realizing it was never all on you to begin with.

When you release that weight and pressure to make everything work for yourself and everyone else, you make space to breathe and to heal and to be held by someone greater.

And from that place, trust can be rebuilt, not in your own ability to control everything, but in the quiet unfolding of what’s next. In small steps, gentle reminders, and deep surrender.

With love from the shore,
Dre 🫶🏽