I am worthy of positive changes in my life.
The broken chair sat at the kitchen table for two years. Everyone in the house knew to take a different one. Replacing it took forty minutes and eleven pounds, and afterwards nobody could explain the delay.
Worthiness rarely announces itself as worthiness. It hides as inertia — a sense that improvements are for later, for when things settle, for a version of you with more time and fewer bills. Change tends to arrive for the person who decides they're allowed to have it now, in this life, at this address.