For weeks I felt lost, until the signs came through so loudly, confirming what I already knew. This time, I trusted them enough to move, to finally step through the next door and claim what's already mine. But the not-so-funny thing is that feeling never låasts long. Those little proofs the universe keeps sending me never seem to last long enough to keep me believing its message. I notice doubt creeps in, and I am again asking myself, "Are we sure? Is this really for me?"
Why does thick fog keep clouding my mind, leaving me searching for a hand? For some sort of proof that I can make it to the other side. Somewhere, I found safety in the confirmations that show up. The signs let me feel, for a moment, that I'm her, and yet I still doubt I can carry it once confirmation walks away.
When did confirmation become such a vital currency in my life that it steers my decisions? Sometimes confirmation shows up easily for the smaller decisions, the ones that don't cost me much. But the choices that ask the most of me, the ones that could actually change my life, never come cheap. So I am left feeling abandoned, waiting to be let in again. Waiting to be needed and valued. If I walk in before being asked, I risk rejection. How much longer until I stop waiting to be let in? How much longer will the waiting keep delaying my knowing?
When I negotiate my allegiance to myself, it weakens my loyalty to my intuition. Validation makes my choices feel safer, easier to grasp. But the cost is quiet. My soul is left flickering, saddened that its own affirmation is never enough. My intuition is constantly seeing me, affirming what already exists. Yet I wait for confirmation — something outside of myself — before I let myself move, still bargaining with my own sovereignty, still treating what I already know like a suggestion instead of the law it's always been.
To be fair, I was unaware that the word I was using with such confidence had a subtly different meaning from what I intended. It wasn’t until my therapist brought it to my attention that I felt the shift happen within me, when she replaced confirmation with affirmation. I paused when she said it. I felt it dig deeper into my core when she explained why it was an affirmation, not a confirmation. Immediately, confirmation felt external, as if I were waiting for something to be given to me or permission to act in a way I was naturally born to be.
Affirmation hits differently. It has ownership behind it. Hearing it that way made me realize I'd been trusting my superpower to confirmation instead of owning it.
Confirmation implies that authority sits outside of you, waiting to validate your place. Affirmation asks something different. You stop asking the world if you are allowed. You begin recognizing the truth when it reflects to you. And you walk in it anyway.
What would happen if I simply believed what I knew was true, and when it was mirrored back to me, I didn’t question its affirming gesture? Where could I be now if I had simply stood on business? If my actions had backed up the conviction already living in my soul.
One thing I know, the satisfying feeling I get from confirmation arrives quickly. But it slips away just as fast. It never sticks. I now understand affirmation differently. Affirming my truth will always have staying power. The word itself hits you in the chest, making you stand taller and prouder.
Confidence stays because it can’t be denied. Choices feel purposeful and actionable. The negotiation is no longer happening at the table. I am learning that trusting knowing is always enough, as well as believing my calling and my desires are an intrinsic part of me, not given to me. So I no longer have to be scared of shrinking them when they show up and affirm themselves.
She and I are dancing the tango now. Our steps move with authority, long before proof appears.
I spent years asking to be seen. Maybe those affirming magical moments were answering me all along (maybe something is listening).
