Her time was coming

Her time was coming. Like a wave gaining momentum as it roars towards the beach, it was building within her. She didn’t know what her purpose was—she hadn’t figured that out yet—but she felt calm about it. Content in the knowledge that it would come. The universe would guide her, steer her to a calling. Her calling.

But she wouldn’t admit this. Couldn’t admit it. That’s not how it worked.

You studied, you got that first job, you climbed that ladder and you climbed it with gusto. You showed you wanted it because that is what was expected of you. Attempts to explain otherwise were seen as failure. A weakness. She must have tried and failed, they would think. It would reaffirm their ideas about her. That she was never really good enough, smart enough, driven enough.

But what if that was not her path? What if so called power and influence and status and kudos and connection were not her driving force? How then does she transition her life? How does she save face? Actually, why should she save face? Why should external validations still matter? Why did they ever matter?

She had to trust her gut, her self, her knowing. She had to sit with it. Accept it. Fight it no more. She knew she was destined to be another version of herself. A better version? She thought so. She didn’t need to convince others; the ones that mattered would be open, accepting. They wouldn’t question. They would enquire and seek to know perhaps, but they wouldn’t challenge her.

Her time was almost here.

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