Permission to Be Unmoored

This week I sent a pitch for something I want.

Not something small. Something that could change the shape of my work, my income, my days.

And now I'm waiting. Hopeful and uncertain at the same time. 

Whenever I feel two conflicting things at the same time, I look down at my two hands. One of them is more dominant than the other. But they both hold things, and they both do things. 

Ok, back to these two things: I was surprised how much shame showed up right next to hope. Shame that I don't already know what's going to happen. Shame that I'm not more certain. Shame that I'm still building something at this stage of my life, still figuring it out, still unglued a little in some fundamental way while I'm holding real responsibility. 

Here's what I keep forgetting: You can be powerful and unmoored at the same time. 

You can be trusted, capable, relied upon--and still not know what's next. 

You can be leading others while your own inner compass is recalibrating. 

You can hold authority in your work and still feel like you're feeling your way forward in the dark. 

Being unmoored doesn't mean you are lost. It means you are in transition. Transitions always feel uncertain before they feel clear. 

Here's your permission slip for the week: 

You don't have to have it all figured out to keep moving. 

You don't have to perform certainty you don't feel. 

You're allowed to be building something real while still feeling like you're finding your way. 

If this resonates, hit reply and tell me: where are you coming unglued right now? 

I read every response. 

With you in it,
Elaine

This reflection is part of Wayfinder's Weekly, my free Monday newsletter for people navigating threshold seasons. Subscribe here

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