For most of my adult life, I was waiting for permission.
Permission to speak up. Permission to take credit. Permission to charge what I was worth. Permission to want what I wanted without having to justify it to anyone.
I didn't realize I was waiting, of course. I thought I was being strategic. Patient. Appropriate.
But what I was really doing was outsourcing my authority to anyone who seemed more confident, more qualified, more entitled to make the call than I was.
The permission slips we collect are heavy. They accumulate without us noticing—each one a small agreement that someone else's opinion matters more than our own knowing.
Permission to rest only when we're burned out. Permission to set boundaries only when we can no longer function without them. Permission to be angry only when it's been repackaged as something more palatable.
The women I know who have stepped into their full power didn't suddenly become braver. They simply stopped waiting.
They stopped waiting for the perfect moment. For unanimous approval. For someone to tap them on the shoulder and say, 'Now. Now you're ready.'
Because that moment doesn't come. It's not supposed to. The permission you've been waiting for has always been yours to give.
You are the authority on your own life. Full stop.
This doesn't mean you stop seeking wisdom or collaboration or feedback from people you trust. It means you stop making your next step contingent on their approval.
The permission slip you need? You're holding the pen.
Cori x
