Permission

I give myself permission to miss a couple of days of blogging.

I give myself permission to not be thrilled with the plebiscite results.

I give myself permission to feel the pain and grief that came up for me just before and during the outcome.

I give myself permission to regret that I didn’t go to the places my people were gathered to find out the results and be in community.

I give myself permission to be glad my workplace is a safe place to be out, and to be emotional.

I give myself permission to change my mind and go into the city to be with friends.

I give myself permission to celebrate and feel that it’s a good day to be gay.

I give myself permission to celebrate in a way that suits me.

I give myself permission to be annoyed at the neighbour complaining the music was too loud, I give myself permission to lose respect for him being so over the top and not hearing me say I’d turn it down at least 10 times in response to his vitriol.

I give myself permission to feel bad.

I give myself permission to feel good.

I give myself permission to be complex.

I give myself permission to be human.

I give myself permission to be real about my experience.

 

Thank you to Brené Brown for inspiring me to give myself permission.

 

This post is 23 in 45 posts for 45 years.

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