I’ve always been drawn to the idea of a navigator.
Maybe it’s the Iron Maiden fan in me. Maybe it’s something older than that. The navigator doesn’t steer. They guide That’s what this job has felt like. Not just paramedicine, but teaching. Writing. Living. All of it. Trying to help someone else move forward, sometimes while barely progressing yourself.
But I didn’t name this place Ghosts of the Navigator because I know where I’m going.
I named it because I really don’t.
And because every role I’ve ever stepped into, I’ve brought ghosts with me.
Ghosts, for me, aren’t just the patients who didn’t make it.
They’re the mistakes that didn’t cost a life, but still left a bruise.
They’re the words I said too sharply, or didn’t say at all.
They’re the calls that went fine on paper but felt wrong in my chest.
The student I didn’t push hard enough. The partner I should’ve checked in with.
The friends I’ve lost.
The loved ones I’ve let go.
Some ghosts look like regret.
Others sound like my own voice, years ago, trying to be strong when I should’ve been honest.
They show up silently and eerily, creeping up on me.
We like to believe the navigator knows the way.
But most of the time, you’re holding a map that doesn’t lead anywhere.
You’re offering calm when you’re anything but.
That’s the thing no one told me about guiding others:
You don’t always feel steady.
You just get good at walking anyway.
I started this blog not because I had answers, but because I needed a place to put the thoughts.
A place for that bit of feeling that doesn’t go away.
For the decisions that didn’t break me, but still cost something.
For the simple kinds of hurt. The ones that don’t make stories to others, but do to me.
This isn’t a guidebook.
It’s a trail of breadcrumbs.
It’s where I leave the things I can’t carry anymore.
I’ve spent a long time helping other people find their way.
Sometimes I’ve done it well, I hope.
Other times, I’ve gotten lost beside them.
But I keep trying. For everyone that matters to me. Which is an incredible list.
Not because I have certainty.
Because I believe in momentum.
In paying attention.
In walking with the ghosts and still choosing a direction.
I don’t know exactly where this is going.
But I trust the instinct to move.
And maybe, in the end, that’s what a navigator really is.
Ghosts of the Navigator 