You’re allowed to take your time. You’re allowed to change direction. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to be wrong, and you’re allowed to acknowledge, with grace, that you did the best you could with what you had, what you knew, at the time.
Grace. It’s a concept so foreign to us, especially when it comes to giving ourselves the benefit of the doubt, when it comes to giving ourselves the approval for which we’re so desperate. I don’t care what your inner monologue maintains–you deserve grace. You deserve as many chances–honest chances–as you need to get it right in your soul.
You owe your happiness and your peace of mind to no one–you aren’t living your life for them. You are the curator, and there is no one to answer to except that nudge to your heart that comes in the dead of night.