Garden of Nectarios

I’ve delayed and put off writing for so long. I need to leave the nest.

Safe in the comfort of my surroundings, I have avoided the tug from my heart to write and to share my faith journey with others. I’m always buying time and saying I’ll do it next week, next month, next year.

Why?

Because I’m waiting for permission. For someone to say it’s ok. And even though many have given me external validation, I haven’t felt allowed to start. It’s a ‘failure to launch’, and I’m the only one holding me back.

I have all the support I need. So why do I falter?

Because I have feared rejection and abandonment for being honest about my faith, my doubt and my journey. I have feared criticism and slander, and that fear has imprisoned me. Until now, I have cared more about what others think about what I have to say than my own soul, which needs to speak about my experience. I’ve cared more about what one naysayer might post in a single comment than what a dozen people might read and contemplate deep in their hearts.

I am making a conscious choice to release the bonds of fear that have kept me shackled. I am giving myself permission.

I give myself permission. Permission to stumble over my words, permission to be wrong, permission to change, permission to grow, to adapt, to evolve. I give myself permission to change my mind. I give myself permission to follow where I am being led even if others don’t understand. I give myself permission to pursue where the truth leads even if it challenges, troubles or offends those I care about.

I give myself permission to release this paralysis while acknowledging hesitation. I can release people-pleasing while acknowledging how much I care for people.

I give myself permission to examine my faith heritage and, through every framework and belief I am shedding or evolving, hold on to what is good.

I give myself permission to ask difficult questions and not find the answers. I give myself permission to be upset or mad or cry in frustration, because I’m human. I give myself permission to not be 100% happy with everything I learn along my journey, like somehow I’ll find my ‘perfect faith’ and everything will be peachy-keen.

I give myself permission to step out on a ledge even when everything and everyone I love is back behind me and I’m all alone on this precipice. I give myself permission to be scared and brave at the same time.

Maybe this is what I needed before fully accepting the truth: that I am a writer, and I write about my faith journey. Somehow I felt like I needed permission to launch… and now I have it. I give myself permission to launch.