Permission Problem
Permission is a funny thing, isn’t it?
When we're children, it's largely about safety and obedience.
Safety - “You're not allowed to cross the street without an adult.”
Obedience - “No! Because I say so.”
Reflecting on permission, I've been wondering. When do we outgrow the need for someone else to give us permission? Are there occasions when it still makes sense? How does this work?
Developmentally, we rebel against authority at various stages of growth, most ardently in the teenaged years. This thwarting of sanctioned actions binds us to a more sovereign existence; an absolutely necessary step. I did my share!
In my entire life, I have never been an early morning person.
My senior year of high school, I brilliantly designed my class schedule to allow me to sleep in. Morning classes rotated each day, comprising four classes before lunch. Monday featured Periods 1 - 4, in sequential order. The Tuesday line-up began with Period 2, followed by 3, 4, and 5. Wednesday began with the 3rd Period Death and Dying Literature class, and the morning closed with 1st period. So, what did I do? I slotted Period 1 and 2 as study halls, allowing me to sleep through two classes on Monday and one on Tuesday - yay! Then, Wednesday through Friday, I needed to drag my bones out of bed, just like everyone else.
Except, in my rebellion, I usually arrived to school Monday through Wednesday, about five minutes before my 3rd Period class ended. The only day of the week I consistently made it to the entirety of English class was Friday, when it was slotted after three other subjects. To this day, I have no idea how I passed that course, but it's a prime illustration of teenaged rebellion in action. Because, at that stage of my educational career, the adults only called upon their authority for the exclusive purposes of my obedience. Perhaps the argument could be made about the safety of my future, should a poor grade impact my transcript; however, I had no desire or intention to attend college immediately following graduation. In turn, the authoritarian logic didn't apply to me, and the circumstances fit my need to stretch into greater autonomy.
Overall, though, even throughout my teen years, I embraced my hard earned "good girl" status.
Accustomed to receiving praise, affirmation, and generally positive feedback from the adults in my life, for my good girl ways, I efforted to maintain that role. And this is where it got tricky.
I hit a glass ceiling, of my own making, when I tied my identity to receiving someone else's approval. This meant, I required an adult to grant me permission to engage in certain activities, rather than willingly taking a risk independently. Because, if I acted purely of my own desire, I might be perceived as naughty and flawed. Given my home life was already a bit precarious, where would I be, if I'd been rejected for being the real me?
“Maturity is doing whatever you want, even if your parents want the same thing.”
I love this quote, and believe Erhard's definition applies to the question of permission. Because, with maturity, permission rouses from inside, even if an external source cheers you on.
In 2002, long before Airbnb hit the scene, my husband and I rented an apartment in a time-share complex, in Sunny Isles Beach, Florida.
The newly renovated, one-bedroom apartment, resided steps from the Atlantic. We needed only to traverse the pool deck, and navigate the many feral kittens living on the property, to dip our toes in the ocean.
If you've never picked up on my subtle cues, I'm a cat person. For me, no personal torture device could have been more effective in calling me to action, than living with hungry kittens mewling outside my sliding glass door! Except, when I prepared a bowl of milk to offer the white furballs, my husband adamantly announced, "Do NOT feed those cats!" So, I didn't.
I know. I know! Who was this woman listening to the ridiculously mean man, instead of attending to the starving felines???
I did this for three days. I'd pour the milk. Mark would proclaim his assertion. I'd wheedle, in an effort to change his mind, and the milk would go back into the fridge for a later bowl of cereal. Then, I'd leave the meanie in the condo and visit with the cats on the patio.
On day four, I readied the milk, and brought it all the way to the sliders. Mark, again, told me not to give that bowl to the cats. At which point, I turned to him and said, "Why am I listening to you? You're NOT my father!" And then, my four-legged friends feasted, and my heart felt happy. This silly interaction marked a turning point in our marriage and, more importantly, a modification in me. It became a noteworthy moment of shifting, from external permission to internal permission, based on what aligned for me.
I wish I could tell you, "From that moment on, I always looked within, to my truth, for what I wanted and what aligned for me."
Alas, that occasion marked the start of my permission journey, rather than cementing and integrating a new way of living. No flick of a light switch, stopped me seeking that "good girl" seal of approval. My fall from good girl status evolved over time, with lots of bumps and bruises along the way. Achieving change required me to practice an abundance of listening to what I wanted for myself more than that role.
Perhaps I never elevated all authority to the same pedestal, but if I deemed someone important to me, they need not have a position of dominance, for me to relinquish my sovereignty. (Re-read the part about Mark and the feral cats.) As my husband, Mark NEVER should have had a voice more important than my own. The marriage contract evidences our equal partnership, and yet, I handed him the reigns, to determine if what I wanted was allowed or not. Crazy times!
Many years later, I remember having a conversation with my coach when preparing for my first solo trip to Costa Rica.
Mark and I had visited the country together the year before, so I knew the destination a bit. Having experienced tremendous magic in that jungle, I yearned to lead a retreat in those rich environs.
While I had conducted a wealth of online research, I simply couldn't get a handle on the logistics. Where would the retreat work happen? Where would people stay? Where would I stay? How would food get managed? Answering these questions, became the driving force for my return to Playa Chiquita. Because it was work-related, I allowed myself to entertain the possibility of a week alone in my most sacred of destinations.
To be clear - I mean, I permitted myself this trip, but only under the guise of work. Then, Laura, my coach, said: "Joanne, what if you reframe this? You've got yourself in a bind. Fear that you might not find what you're looking for, to construct a retreat, is paralyzing you. Change what you are seeking. Let this be a retreat for you! Maybe you'll get information about a future workshop - maybe you won't. But how will you lead anyone, if you don't know how to give this to yourself?"
Ohhhhhhhh. After a bit more hemming and hawing on my part...about the money, the time off, the lack of fairness for me to travel without Mark...I accepted her permission to have this experience. And, being alone, with the monkeys in the rain forest, was transformative for me. With the pressure gone, I easily determined how a retreat could work. And, the following two summers, I offered the Embracing Magic Retreat; each time, Costa Rica wowed me.
You'll notice, I still needed an external green light.
For a little perspective, this was 11 years after the cat incident in Florida. Re-wiring takes time! I perceive two noteworthy differences from the cats to Costa Rica, with one commonality.
In Florida, I wanted to feed the cats, but didn't believe I had the right to my want. It was for the WANT that I sought permission; until I didn't.
By the time Costa Rica rolled around, I made travel plans, despite my discomfort. And the only way I can describe it is this: rather than waiting for someone to give me permission to go, it was more along the lines of borrowing Laura's permission for me to have the trip for myself.
Because, in both situations, I hid behind a common denominator. At some level, my want related to giving something to someone else. I still had not achieved the autonomy and belief in my own mattering, that I could simply have what I wanted for me.
In my 40's, I contrived the idea of going on safari in South Africa for my 50th birthday.
Then, in 2015, the universe started tapping me on the shoulder about going sooner. While I had never researched what it took to get to Africa, an advertisement for a great flight appeared in my Facebook feed. In my imaginings, Mark and I globe trotted together. However, when I shared the amazing flight deal, he said, "Yeah, I just don't think I can do the long flight." To say, I believed my dream to be crushed, would be an understatement. I immediately went to bed, grieving, angry, and hopeless.
The next morning, I woke with a deep knowing: Go alone. This is just like that independent trip to Costa Rica, except it's a level up!
A level up, indeed. I'd had a dry run of Costa Rica with Mark, prior to embarking on a solo journey. How would I navigate a trip halfway around the world, to a place I knew nothing about, by myself? I didn't know. But a voice within said, "Go now, before they're gone." That did it. I didn't want to miss seeing the animals!
I began investigating programs I could participate in, to provide a safe destination, while allowing me to experience the African wildlife. One bread crumb lead to another, and that's how I came to volunteer at the Dell Cheetah Centre (which the pandemic caused to permanently close - heartbreaking). When I told Mark of my idea to go alone, I did not seek his permission. I knew there might be financial issues to work out, and I trusted we could, because I wanted this for me, and I was going for it.
For those of you counting, yes, it took me 13 years to move from, "I need permission to want" to actively living into:
“I want. I deserve. I will take the risk.”
And, to this day, it remains a practice. Sometimes I get caught in the old loop. If it happens now, the hamster wheel likely revolves around self-judgment, rather than fear of outer rejection. However, the most typical permission lesson, of late, has been learning to say "no" to what does not fit for me, even if someone may feel hurt.
My step-daughter, Julia, with whom I'm close, got married in May 2021.
Because of Covid, she and her husband participated in a beach ceremony in Kennebunkport, with only 11 guests. I hate weddings, but I love Julia. Well, I am touched my the vows and ritual of weddings, but the social aspect drains me tremendously. What to do? How could I live into what I wanted for myself, while still honoring the relationship?
Fortunately, my half-sister forged the path months before. When invited to her wedding in October of 2020, I struggled. How could I both support my sister and husband-to-be, while consciously choosing to avoid a situation in which I would step out of integrity with myself? Eventually, I found a solution I could live with: go to the ceremony - skip everything else. Then, quarantine prevented the big ceremony my sister planned, and I watched the beloveds tie the knot via Zoom. I loved that!
This big shift, roused from the place of inner permission, allowed me to find a new way to relate to social events. When Julia got married, I went to the beach ceremony, and skipped the dinner after. When my step-son got married a few months later, I attended the exchange of vows and, after a brief, uncomfortable stint at the cocktail hour, I exited (as planned). When my dear friend turned 60, I organized a little dinner party for her, baked and dropped off a cheesecake, and happily listened to the joy in her voice when she called me at the end of the night.
As Julia said, when she heard about my friend's birthday, "Well, at least you're consistent." Yes, I privately preened. For me, it fits. Granting myself permission to act in accordance with my own integrity, even if others are uncomfortable with those choices, allows me to stand as me - with them - rather than give myself away for them. It's already been a long road. I find myself filled with wonder about what may still open, as I continue to practice!
A side bar — I believe asking for permission from someone, when it is about them, constitutes the only free and clear time to make such a request.
For example, if there is risk of crossing another person's physical, emotional, or previously stated boundary, obtaining authorization from the being who's metaphorical underwear drawer you seek to go through, marks the difference between intimacy and invasion. That is an important permission to obtain.
If you struggle with needing permission, fear of disappointing others, believing you can only have something if you give yourself away (or it's for someone else's benefit), experience a bottomless pit of want, or some other version of the I Want Monster, you may benefit from this new offering: "Taming the I Want Monster."
With love and encouragement,
Joanne