This happened a few years ago, in conversation with a friend and later with my sister. I don’t remember what the topic was, but I do remember how I felt when my friend said, “give yourself permission” (to do whatever my pressing issue was at the time). I felt ecstatic. I could do anything I wanted simply by giving myself permission. I phoned my independent, strong-willed sister and excitedly told her that I had given myself permission (to do whatever it was). I was surprised and considerably irritated when her response was to laugh – at me!
I thought about this occasionally. I have come to realize that giving myself permission assumes that I always require a higher authority to act on my own behalf; if I don’t have one, then I need to invent one by splitting myself into two: the authority (‘I’) and the subordinate subject (‘myself’). So, ironically, I told myself:
You’re an adult. You don’t need permission. If it’s legal, within your locus of control, causes no harm, does not intrude on the rights of others, and is preferably ethical, you don’t need permission. Want to be happy? Be happy. You don’t need permission. Want to take time for self-care? Just do it – you don’t need permission. Want to make some changes in your life? For goodness sake, talk it over with appropriate family and friends and people with expertise, evaluate their advice and comments and questions, accept what is useful, disregard the rest, and then do what you want. You don’t need permission – you’re an adult.
Sometimes, as an adult, I feel a sense of validation, comfort and encouragement when ‘given’ permission from wise people I trust and who know me well – my aunty, my sister, my mentor – but even then, the permission granted has no real authority. I am the authority, the agent, of my life.
“I give myself permission” is unnecessary mental gymnastics, and supposes that you are subordinate even to yourself I. Just do it, have it, be it. You’re an adult. You don’t need permission.