You Are the One You've Been Waiting For
Growing up, my dad was a builder and my mom stayed home to raise my sisters and me. Our house was immaculate, a product of my mother's housekeeping. There was a part of our living room that served as a cut through from the dining room to the hallway that went to my bedroom. Using it meant that I had to cross the perfectly vacuumed carpet. It was a game to me. Could I cross it without my mother noticing the footprints? I'd take a couple steps, turn around and try to pat away the footprints. A couple more steps. Turn around and repeat. In retrospect it would have been faster to not take the cut through, but it felt victorious to make it to my bedroom. If I didn't hear the yell of my mother (who cut through the living room?!) then it was an even bigger success.
Downstairs was a different story. My dad's office was the bane of my mother's existence. The one place where she threw her hands up in the air. There were papers scattered everywhere. Loose change in places you wouldn't expect to find it. Files sitting in piles on the office chairs with his all-capital letters scribbled across the tabs. I didn't have chores as a kid because whatever I did my mother would always re-do, so I used to beg my dad to pay me to "organize" his office, which just consisted of me stacking papers in neat piles, collecting the change in a bowl, and putting all the pencils in the pencil holder. Eventually my organizing transformed into wandering around, trying to make sense of an adult life that I wasn't a part of yet. I'd look at the books he had in his closet, inspect the hunting rifles that leaned against the wall, study the house plans that were clipped to his drawing table. One of my favorite pieces of his adult life, however, was his rolodex. I'd slide open the tinted cover and spin the wheel around as different names and numbers flashed by my eyes like a picture book. I wondered who everyone was. And why there were so many names. How did they all fit into his life?
While technology caused the extinction of rolodexes, I often envision my mind as one, flipping through memories and people as needed. I spin the wheel in my head searching for the right person for the conversation I'm looking to have. I have the people I call when I have a long drive ahead of me. The ones I call on Sunday morning. The ones I call when I'm about to go on a date and want to make sure they know my whereabouts. The ones who will listen to my myriad existential crises. The ones who will talk me off a ledge. And then there are the ones I call for advice.
The other day I was staring at my phone, reading and rereading a text I was about to send someone. This particular someone was a guy I had plans to go on a first date with that evening. I had been catching some odd vibes and had a solid gut feeling that this was not going to be my person. So I had typed out "Given your lack of communication, among a few other things, I don't think this is the right avenue for me. I'm going to take a pass on tonight but wish you luck in finding what you're after." I kept staring at the message, fear creeping in. What if it's too harsh, what if he is my person and I'm jumping to conclusions, what if, what if, what if? What if I just call my sister real quick and see what she thinks? And in that moment, I paused. What if I just trusted myself instead? I hit send.
My theme of this year has been trust. Specifically, trust in myself. I often think that someone else knows what's best for me than I do. I wanted to call my sister not for her to tell me what to do, but for her to tell me it was OK to do what I wanted to do. It was OK to trust myself. It was OK to honor my needs. I was seeking approval. I have this habit not just in simple scenarios such as sending an uncomfortable text, but in grand decision making as well. I probably called 15 people when I was making the decision to take a new job 2,000 miles away. I had already made the decision on the inside, but the fear of saying it out loud, the fear of others not approving of it, that's what kept me stuck. I ran my worries and fears past so many people until I found the person who said what I was really looking for. And his advice was: listen to your gut. His advice redirected me to me. The danger in seeking advice from others is that they're dishing it out based on what they would do. And for some, they might not be able to fathom the way I'm living my life. Why would I think their opinion weighs more than my own?
For as simple as it was, hitting send on that text the other day felt empowering. I hit send because it's what I thought was right for me. Like an old Nintendo game, I could almost hear the self esteem points catapulting me to the next level. I felt the self-trust. I heard my own permission to honor my needs. I didn't need someone else to tell me what was right for me because once I sifted through the fear, I could locate it myself.
My practice this year as I navigate self-trust is to simply pause when faced with indecision. Instead of flipping through my internal rolodex to find someone else to tell me what to do or how to feel, I use my own reflection skills to determine the best course of action. Something as minor as a text to a potential first date or as grand as a new job, I have found a handful of questions very helpful in getting me to tap into my own internal trust. It's my new rolodex for decision making and it goes something like this:
What do I have to do to feel the way I want to feel?
Is this supporting the life I'm trying to create?
Is this moving me forward?
Do I feel more like myself?
Does this clear the way for more goodness to show up?
What does my heart have to say about it?
What does my death have to say about it?
What do I need in this moment?
I keep these in the notes app on my phone. And while I don't usually answer all of them, I scan the list and notice the ones that I have a firm response to. With the first date scenario, I knew right away that it wasn't supporting the life I'm trying to create, so it was an easy action from there. Send the text. Move on. Yoga, meditation, journaling, reflection, they're all tools in creating self awareness. You don't need an army of people to back up your choices. You don't need permission to do what suits your life. You don't need approval. You, my friend, are the one you've been waiting for.
