Diary Entry
A Journey of Self-Discovery
One App,
Many Uses
For a long time, I lived for other people, for their approval, their acceptance, their love. Everything I thought I was entitled to, everything I believed I deserved, I had to fight for, as though my worth needed to be proven again and again. Yet, no matter how much I tried, it was never enough. I was never enough. Deep down, I longed to live for myself, to take control, but when you are used to hearing that you are not good enough, you begin to internalize it. Doubt seeps in, self-loathing grows, and suddenly you feel like you can’t trust yourself. You fear being in control because you believe you will only ruin everything.
Eventually, you crumble.
You fall into a pit of despair, though in truth, you were there all along. Only now do you begin to see it clearly. And in that dark place, you still cling to a tiny flame of hope: the belief that life can get better, that change is possible, not only for yourself, but also for your loved ones, your community, your environment. Yet the journey feels so heavy, as though your light is flickering out.
Somehow, you hold on. You begin the painful but necessary process of unlearning, letting go of the toxic negativity and self-hate that have weighed you down. You teach yourself to love a little more each day, to find joy in the simple things that once brought peace: the glow of a sunset, the scent of a paperback book, the vastness of a star-filled night. You help stray animals, you advocate for the causes you believe in, you savor cool water on a hot day, you dare to step back into the world because deep inside, you still want to make a difference. But first, you know you must rediscover yourself.
Growth is not without its storms. With each step forward, the mental breakdowns sometimes feel sharper than before. It makes sense now why some say knowledge is pain, because self-awareness cuts deep. There are days when I wish for blissful ignorance, but at my core, I know I will always want to learn more, to become more. Because no matter how rough the road gets, I believe I am capable of many, many things.
Soon, I will be a doctor. Sometimes I look at my stethoscope and wonder if it’s all just a strange dream. As someone who has battled anxiety, the idea of interacting with patients every day can feel daunting. But then there are the moments that make it all worthwhile: meeting an elderly patient whose gratitude for a listening ear softens the weight of my worries, or seeing the relief on a mother’s face after I’ve helped her sick child, or feeling the quiet satisfaction of organizing a community health talk. These small, ordinary moments remind me why I chose this path. Medicine is not only about diagnoses and prescriptions, it is about being a confidant, a source of comfort, a healer in the truest sense.
Everything I have endured, the sleepless nights, the crushing doubt, the fragile but persistent hope, has shaped the doctor I aspire to be. My struggles have taught me empathy, and my hopes have given me purpose. Together, they guide me toward a holistic vision of care: one that looks beyond symptoms to the whole human being. For me, healing means asking about stress and sleep as much as blood pressure, considering family dynamics alongside test results, and acknowledging how clean water, safe housing, and environmental health shape our well-being.
Growing up in Ndola and Luanshya, and now working in Chingola, I have seen firsthand how mining pollution and unreliable water supplies directly affect health. These realities fuel my determination to advocate for sustainable healthcare practices, eco-friendly waste disposal, community water programs, and health systems that honor both people and planet. My rediscovered love for sunsets and starry skies constantly reminds me of how deeply human health is bound to the health of our environment. I feel called not just to heal bodies, but to help heal the earth as well.
The journey is ongoing. I still push myself to write even when it feels impossible, to speak even when my voice trembles, to show up even when fear lingers. The path ahead is long, but when I look at my stethoscope, I no longer just see fear, I see possibility. I see a future where my scars become tools for compassion, where my hope fuels service, and where every patient encounter is a chance to heal both a life and a world.
Writing this diary entry is another step forward for me. For a long time, I was afraid to share my thoughts with others. Even now, pressing these words onto the page feels like an act of courage. But I do it because I know what it is to feel alone in the dark, and I hope that my story can be a small light for someone else.
To anyone who reads this and feels the same struggles I have felt: you are not alone, and it does get better. Healing is slow, and it is hard, but it is possible. Hold on to your hope, it is stronger than you know.
Mumba Malata