an invisible authority

notes on permission

sweet one,

I’ve stumbled across a thought process I didn’t know was taking place. I asked a few friends if they were having a similar experience—some were already aware of it, some made the recognition with me, and some couldn’t relate at all. I’d be curious to see where you’re leaning.

after a hard day a few mornings ago, in that early fog of waking, I was exhausted and considering giving myself 15 more minutes of sleep. eyes closed, I weighed my options. “I don’t have anything pressing this morning. 15 minutes will be enough. no, I don’t have any reason to be this exhausted. I didn’t work out enough yesterday to be this tired, there’s no reason for it—” when halfway through I remembered it was emotional exhaustion from the day before;  just as valid as physical exertion. it wasn’t until I had caught myself being unfair to my emotions that I realized I had a permission structure built into my thinking at all. 

am I allowed? do I deserve it? is this okay?

at the grocery store, I stare at a bag of sour cream and cheddar chips and think, “if I’m hungry enough this week, I can wait for lunch or dinner,” and walk out of the store with as few purchases as I can.

after a long day, I know if I speak, I’ll crack under its weight. a friend asks me what’s happened. I could say I can’t talk about it now, this moment feels too heavy, but she was sweet for asking and I don’t want to punish her kindness.

a saturday afternoon and the unease of idle hands starts to make me itch. it feels nice to relax, but not all the way. shouldn’t I be doing something with this time?

in each decision, I stand before some invisible authority and await internal disciplining. did I do enough in order to rest? do I deserve a snack in between? is it okay to leave someone uncomfortable? is my time wasted if I’m not taking advantage of it? the more I went through my day, the more surprised I was; who am I seeking permission from? has this been a part of everything? what bothered me was not that I was giving thought to what I was doing, but that I could see this habit was beyond typical moral reasoning of right or wrong; more applying worth or submission of boundaries to it. 

when I asked friends if they experienced this same permission process, I then asked where they believed the authority came from. the executioner changed shape in the form of bad parenting, an eating disorder, cultural conditioning, a strict church, the patriarchy; the unmitigated grind of late-stage capitalism. how long had we been away from those influences and were still carrying around their bias? how many beliefs have I been holding that aren’t my own? whichever critic, its opinion favored what has kept us small, or apprehensive, or busy, instead of what we necessarily want. 

today, I’m writing your sweet self not with an answer in arguing your case (sorry), or how to coax this figure out of its standing; I’m not there yet. but now that I’ve recognized it, I can trace the network it's been building underground—how its structure feeds one decision to another. our work, for now, is observing; taking a pause when we’re mulling something over and discerning if the verdict made is in our voice or theirs, finding when it speaks loudest, contemplating where it comes from, or if its voice sounds familiar. 

I want to allow things to be uncomfortable if I’m sticking by a boundary. I don’t want every small circumstance to weigh so heavily. I want to separate my value from each moment. I want to take up space. I want to let myself rest. 

I want that for you, too. it’s high time we dwell in all the spaces we’re meant to; within our friendships or relationships, every crook and crease of our bodies, and the whole of our minds. 

with love,

schuyler (sky-ler)
venmo: schuylerpeck