Between Survival and Sovereignty

I’ve been feeling like I’m standing in two worlds at once.

One foot planted in survival — clocking into work that drains me, exchanging my hours for money, surrounded by people and conversations that don’t nourish me. I only feel stressed when I have to interact at work, and though it’s not unbearable, it feels like such a waste of my time and energy. Eight hours in an office is excessive. I know my work would be stronger with more flexibility, with space to breathe, create, and work from home.

And yet, the other foot is already in sovereignty. I know this because I can feel it in my presence. When I walk, I’m mesmerized by the trees and the gardens as if I haven’t seen them a thousand times before. I notice the smallest details, trying to observe without judgment — though it’s nearly impossible to ignore the beauty of nature. Sometimes people glance at me like I’m strange for admiring the trees, while they stay glued to their phones, missing everything. But I know those moments of wonder are sovereignty made real.

This in-between is uncomfortable. It’s hard to hold the tension of what is and what’s becoming. But it’s also sacred — proof that I’m moving, proof that I’m shedding the old and calling in the new.

Survival tells me to stay small, safe, and quiet.

Sovereignty whispers that I am meant to expand, to embody the fullness of who I am, to live and work in freedom.

So I’m choosing sovereignty, even if my body still lingers in survival’s space. The material world is catching up to the magic I’m embodying. And when both feet land on sovereign ground, I’ll know this season of struggle wasn’t wasted — it was the bridge.