If you want to know the truth of the matter, I’m pretty much the worst person in the world at making decisions. I ponder. I pray. I weigh my options. Multiple times. And then I wax poetic for days and then weeks until, finally, I nudge myself beyond my anxiety-riddled extremities and just do the damn thing. 

And that’s just when I’m trying to decide what to eat for dinner.

But, on the other end of things, I’m pretty great at telling other people my opinion on the kinds of decisions they should be making. I can listen. I can nod empathically. I can objectively provide perspective. And I can map out a path for their personal success like you’ve never seen. Except that you probably have seen it. Because if you are my friend and you are reading this, I’ve probably done it with you. I’m not shy with my opinions and/or my intuition. It’s one of the only things that comes easily for me. That and anything that involves queso.

The point is, it’s a perilous line to walk, the whole “practicing what you preach” thing.  And I’m still figuring it out. I have a few large decisions looming ahead, and my brain is tempted to capsize on itself and sink to the dark blue bottom. But I’m determined to not let it. I want to trust, not just in the greater picture, but in my ability to utilize my own intuition.  I throw that stuff around every day, launching it towards whoever is privy to my counseling chair. Sometimes it sticks and sometimes it doesn’t. But I use it. And I share it. And I do it without fear.

I’d like to treat myself the same way.

So. I’m praying for more of that sticky intuition. That it would illuminate answers even though I’m not sure of the questions. That it would bring peace to my anxious brain. And that it would allow me the privilege of trusting myself.

(And that maybe, just maybe, it would have an Australian accent.)