Give Yourself Permission
Progress, not perfection – I said to myself yesterday.
I was sitting at my desk on a snowy Sunday afternoon, paintbrush in hand.
Before me were all of my art supplies: paper, black markers, scissors, watercolors. And pages of notes.
Notes that, like a time capsule, I hadn’t looked at in months.
Seven months to be exact.
Yesterday I decided to restart my “art project” as I’ve come to call it: a 100-day exploration of what it means – and looks like – to design my life.
I started out last spring, just as the world locked down and I was looking for a creative outlet – a way to stay sane, really, amidst lots of chaos.
I stuck with it for 66 days.
And then my life picked back up again, and I had to put my brushes down.
Over the last seven months, I’ve thought about my art project with a mix of longing, nostalgia and guilt.
Knowing it was so meaningful to me, and to others, made me want to return to it and avoid it – all at the same time.
To help me manage this crazy mixture of feelings, I created a mantra:
I’m writing my own permission slip.
Not an excuse. Not me being lazy.
A permission slip to return to it when I was ready. On my terms.
Yesterday I was ready.
And I’ll admit: also a little scared to pick up that paintbrush.
But oh boy was it fun. Once I pushed back the doubt and just got going, it was like reuniting with an old friend.
I gave myself permission to step away – because I needed to focus on other things, because I needed a break, just because.
And yesterday I ripped that page out of my notebook and tossed it into the recycling bin.
I’m ready to be back in it again.
How might you benefit from a permission slip in your life?
What standards, expectations, or success metrics could you lower or slow down – and for the sake of what?
And what might you find is even better when you return?
You have my permission. Do you have yours?
Onward,
