The Part of Me That Still Wants Permission

I keep sitting with how easy it is to leave myself while looking like I am doing the right thing. Being patient. Being understanding. Giving one more chance. Asking for another opinion because maybe somebody else can make my truth feel less inconvenient. That is the strange thing about self-abandonment. It does not always look reckless. Sometimes it is polite. Sometimes it is praised. Sometimes people call you loving because you have become very good at having no needs in the room. Writing about self-trust stirred that up for me. Not the shiny version where you make a decision, stand tall, and never question it again. I mean the messy version. The one where your body says no and your mind starts building a courtroom. Evidence. Witnesses. A closing argument for why you are not allowed to believe yourself yet. I wanted to write something that did not make certainty the price of coming home. Because I do not think we always get certainty. Sometimes we get a tight chest. A tiredness we cannot explain. A sentence that keeps returning after we have done everything possible to talk ourselves out of it. And maybe listening begins there. I am also sitting with the language of “me.” It can feel awkward at first. Almost too close. “I” can become an idea, a version of myself I am trying to reach someday. But “me” feels immediate. It points to the person standing here now. The body breathing now. The truth asking to be admitted now. Me is listening. Me is allowed to pause. Me does not need to turn every boundary into a presentation with visual aids and a question-and-answer period. That last one makes me laugh, but only because it is a little too real. What I want readers to know is that resistance does not mean the practice is failing. If an affirmation catches in your throat, that place deserves tenderness. You do not have to repeat the words louder until you overpower yourself. You can ask what part of you is afraid to believe them. That question may tell you more than forced positivity ever could. I am not trying to become someone who never doubts herself. I am learning to become someone who notices when she has disappeared from her own decisions. Then returns. Not dramatically. Not perfectly. Just honestly.