What if you’ve been waiting to feel deserving before you allow yourself to begin?
I know this pattern firsthand. Over these last few weeks, I’ve felt how quickly a desire can become something I have to defend—even to myself. I’ve questioned whether I’m allowed to want something simply because it matters to me.
I’m still finding my way through that.
And it has me thinking about how many women quietly put themselves on hold, waiting to feel deserving before they begin.
The woman who has an idea she would love to explore. The woman who wants support, but keeps telling herself she should be able to manage alone. The woman who longs for something more, then immediately begins explaining why she can’t have it.
“It’s not the right time.”
“Everyone else needs me.”
“I can’t justify spending that on myself.”
“Maybe when things settle down.”
Sometimes there are real limits. Money, caregiving, health, and the demands of life deserve our attention. Choosing to wait can be a loving, thoughtful decision.
But I’m curious about what happens beneath those words when waiting becomes the answer every time.
Do you believe there will ever be a time when your desires matter enough?
The quiet ways we quit
Quitting on ourselves can be so quiet that we barely notice it.
We close the page. We don’t send the message. We talk ourselves out of asking for support. We feel a little spark of possibility and extinguish it before anyone else even knows it was there.
Sometimes we never begin because we have already decided we aren’t entitled to want what we want.
We can see the value in supporting someone else’s growth. We encourage our friends. We make room for our children’s interests, our partners’ priorities, our clients’ possibilities.
Then our own desire arrives, and we put it on trial.
Is it practical? Is it selfish? Am I too old? What if I fail? What if someone disapproves?
How much evidence do we need before we allow ourselves a place in our own lives?
When deserving has conditions
Some of us have learned to feel valuable through being useful, agreeable, responsible, or needed.
We know how to earn approval. We know how to keep things working. We know how to put our needs aside so everyone else can remain comfortable.
Choosing something for ourselves can feel unfamiliar. Even asking can bring guilt.
That guilt can be persuasive. We may treat it as proof that we’re doing something wrong, without pausing to ask what expectation we’re stepping outside of.
Perhaps we’re encountering a pattern that has shaped our choices for years: everyone else first, and ourselves only if there’s something left.
I want us to be able to recognize that pattern with tenderness. There are reasons we learned to live this way. And we are allowed to become curious about what it is costing us now.
Beginning before belief
You may be waiting to feel confident, worthy, or certain before you take a step.
But what if belief grows through the experience of staying with yourself?
You name a desire without immediately dismissing it. You ask a question. You make time for something that matters to you. You keep one small promise to yourself.
You begin to discover: I can listen to myself. I can consider my needs. I can make a choice and learn from it.
Beginning can be small. It can fit your actual circumstances. It can include a conversation, a plan, or asking someone to help you explore what is possible.
And sometimes staying with yourself means resting, changing direction, or leaving something you’ve outgrown. You are allowed to reconsider. Your worth doesn’t depend on finishing everything you start.
The question is whether your own voice has a place in the decision.
Making room for yourself
This is part of what I explore with women through coaching and Ishtara: the patterns that shape our choices, the boundaries we struggle to honour, and the self-trust we want to build.
We can understand a pattern and still feel its pull. Through conversation and body-based practice, we make room to notice what happens when a woman begins to choose herself. The hesitation. The guilt. The desire. The possibility of responding differently.
I’d love you to sit with this question:
What have I been telling myself I’m not allowed to begin?
Then, gently:
What is one step I could take that honours both my desire and my circumstances?
You don’t have to prove that your desire will lead somewhere extraordinary before you give it your attention.
Your life is already worthy of your participation.
And if you would love support exploring the patterns that keep you putting yourself on hold, I’d love to meet you there.
With love,
Nicole