Permission

I give myself permission to be great.

I give myself permission to be strong. 

I give myself permission to be vulnerable and tender, sad and joyful.

I give myself permission to be exactly as I am, where I am, when I am.

I give myself permission to shine even when no one is there to see my light.

I give myself permission to fall and get back up and fall again.

I give myself permission to be moody and feel and have erratic thoughts and emotional episodes. 

I give myself permission to complain and pass judgment, to forgive myself and others, to love recklessly, misspeak, step out of line, burn bridges, shed tears, hold hands with men, fart in public and yawn without covering my mouth.

I give myself permission to lie down when I’m tired, stand up when I’m energized and be in the middle when I’m in the middle.

I give myself permission to be great, to be awesome, to love myself fully and to embrace all failures with a laughter, profanity and tears. 

I give myself permission to not have all the answers or even any questions.

I give myself permission to dream wildly.

I give myself permission to have the strength and courage to cry in public.

I give myself permission to look myself in the mirror everyday and not be happy and shout I think you’re great and to whisper you can do it.

I give myself permission to shatter.

I give myself permission to give myself permission to do and to be what I want when I want.

I give myself permission to not like everyone and not to be liked by everyone.

I give myself permission to walk naked in myself, raw and rough, smooth and shiny, pointy and dull, pathetic and powerful. 

I give myself permission to live in the paradox of the great mystery.

I give myself permission.