For folks who may be feeling unsure about what step to take next in their life, I’m sharing this story to remind you that sometimes the path finds you. Perhaps you are at a crossroads. Perhaps an opportunity you were hoping for did not work out. I urge you to stay open-minded to the possibilities you might not see waiting for you around the corner. Keep going. Maybe, like me, you discover an idea or a person or an interest you didn’t know about before, and a path appears. You do not need to know the entire route before you start. What E.L. Doctorow said about writing a novel applies just as well to finding your way in life, at least for those times when you’re feeling lost. “It’s like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”

There is a longer story to explain why I’ve been thinking about the paths in life we find ourselves on or, ideally, pave for ourselves, but for this post, I’d like to focus on the end of that story rather than the beginning. So I’m going to skip over the part where my eye doctor tells me I might have a brain tumor, and the months of waiting for the results of various tests ordered by the various specialists I was referred to in order to confirm or reject that possibility.

[As a side note for those who are interested, apparently the protocol for determining the cause of a vision problem is to start from the outside and go in. So, in my case, tests and scans were done on both corneas, retinas, the optic nerve, and ultimately, my brain. Suggested diagnoses ranged from dry eyes to demyelination (diseases like Parkinson’s or MS).]

I am grateful to say the test results were all negative, there was no evidence of a brain tumor or damage to my eyes. During the year it took for the doctors to come to that conclusion, I had time to do some serious thinking about what I would like to accomplish in my life and how far I had gotten on that path. It was hard to accept how little I’ve done that would measure up to any kind of meaningful impact. It was harder to accept that I had left so much potential on the table if the game, my life, was really almost over.

I tried to identify where the barriers were and how I allowed them to block my progress. The first and probably biggest barrier has been something I have struggled with since childhood: a poor sense of direction. And I mean that both figuratively and literally. (I wonder if they are related?) I have always had a hard time picturing a route forward into the future for myself. When I was younger, I didn’t recognize it as a problem that needed a solution. Mostly because when you’re young, everything is “now” anyway. And although I couldn’t answer the perennial question, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” it didn’t bother me then as it does now. Partly because the future was so far away. But also because I had a slightly different understanding of my future than many of my friends. I was named after my aunt, who died when she was 13. I then found out she was named after a relative who died in her 20s. It seemed to me that Edna’s, like big dogs, just don’t live very long. I didn’t need to worry about what I would do when I grew up, so I didn’t.

Besides, there were so many fun, compelling things to do. I kept busy pursuing a string of different interests. Certain milestones were painful, but I got through them (deciding on a major in college, choosing a job, saying “no thank you” to boyfriends along the way who asked to marry me). Throughout it all, I was searching for a path toward a sense of “home”. I found many nice places to stay for a while, but for reasons I can’t fully explain, none of them felt like my forever-home. Which is why I admire so much my friends and siblings who seem to have interests and careers that sustain them. They know what they like and they stick with it. What a gift.

How does this relate to finding your way (since clearly I haven’t yet)? Well recently I started reading a book written by a doctor who I believe has found a way for my daughter Alia to become an independent walker. Dr. Karen Pape is the author, and she has dedicated her life to helping children improve how they walk, run, use their arms or hands—even speak. I am excited and optimistic about the impact this doctor’s approach can have on my daughter’s future independence. I am also reassured that, although her approach is considered cutting-edge for children, there is nothing “kooky” or quixotic about it. She is simply applying our understanding of neuroplasticity in adults to children. Doctors in rehabilitative medicine for adults have been using this approach successfully for decades. She is one of the first doctors, however, to recognize its effectiveness with children.

The way forward, however, is not clear. It may be filled with twists and turns and detours. (Dr. Pape died of cancer two months ago, before she was able to establish a network of practitioners to continue her groundbreaking work.)

And so it is up to me, the woman with no sense of direction, to find the way. I will try to do for my daughter what I have been unable to do for myself. Like every parent, my hope is for my child to fully realize her potential. My bigger hope is that together, Alia and I can pave the way for any child who currently struggles to move—there are thousands—to gain access to this approach, so they too can enjoy the freedom of movement so many of us enjoy each day without even noticing. It is a steep hill to climb, and I have only just begun. I’ll let you know how it goes.

If you are experiencing a similar sense of uncertainty about how to achieve your goals, please remember you can reach your goals, even if the way forward is only clear one step at a time. You just have to keep going.

Safe travels!