Before I really live my life, I’m waiting for the stars to align. I’m waiting for a sign, blazing from the heavens.
I’m waiting for the right time. For the right frame of mind; for confidence. Waiting to be SURE of what I’ve learned. Waiting until I’m good enough.
I’m waiting for certainty. Waiting to know I can’t fail. Waiting to know this is definitely the right decision, to know I’ve definitely made the right choice.
I’m waiting for clarity. For the right idea, for more direction, until I’m sure I know how.
I’m waiting for support. I’m waiting for you to tell me you know I can. Waiting for someone else to say ‘let’s go’. Waiting for someone else to do it for me, and wake me when it’s done.
I’m waiting for permission.
Who’d give me permission I would actually listen to?
“You have permission to live your life now. Congratulations. Off you go.”
I’m learning permission is an inside job, and the cliche is true: I AM the one I’ve been waiting for.
This year In the Mexican jungle I began to let go of ‘the world owes me’, and embrace my own agency. I began to learn to be the giver of my own permission. I’d been holding onto so much resentment it was impossible for me to move.
So I gave all my resentment to the jungle, and the jungle heard every grievance.
All the ways I’d been hurt, all the blame I had to lay.
It’s YOUR fault I learned I’m not allowed to say no. And it’s YOUR fault I have shitty boundaries. And it’s YOUR fault I don’t have my shit together. YOU ignored me, YOU didn’t love me, YOU made me the odd one out, it’s your fault I’m scared of intimacy, it’s your fault I never feel good enough. I pointed all the fingers I had to point, laid out all the blame.
I’d never let myself FEEL any of this before. You’re not supposed to blame other people for your own shit. Self aware people don’t do that. It’s not okay to even THINK those thoughts in the privacy of your own skull. And so I’d sat in unconscious judgement of myself and squashed all my petty thoughts down into a black oozing swamp of unexamined resentment that simmered under the surface.
The jungle accepted all of it, and I began to feel lighter.
I told the jungle everything I wanted. The whole outrageous, improbable, demanding list of it. All the things I want from people and how I want to receive those things. How I want to be heard. How I want people to show up for me, and how I want to feel supported. The ways I want to be loved.
All the things I never ask for, expecting people to intuitively know without me having to say. All the things I resent people and life for not giving me, even though I’ve never asked.
The breeze took my wants to the jungle, and the jungle heard them all.
I was given a question: if YOU step up as the initiatrix of your own desires, how would you feel in your body? If you gave yourself permission, what would you do? How would you live your life?
I sat in the jungle and felt myself to be powerful. Confident. Intelligent. I felt the immense depth of my own presence.
I saw that my petty thoughts were just thoughts. I didn’t have to believe them. And I didn’t have to repress them and store them all inside of me in a black hole of resentment.
I saw that if I wanted to live a life that felt meaningful to me, I’d have to be the one to create it. It was up to me to say what I wanted and how I wanted it. The responsibility was mine. I felt incredibly free.
Sitting there, I knew I was more than enough, and I was no longer waiting for anyone.