Sunday morning: my husband raises his eyebrow at the scraps of paper on the kitchen worktop. Short sentences scrawled in inky black pen, crumpled into balls, soon to be stuffed into the pockets of my jeans.
My Permission Slips.
My new favourite practice.
‘Permission’ is my word for 2017.
I need to give myself permission, most days, just to be myself, to rest in my God-breathed worth.
I need to give myself permission to have these particular limits and gifts and needs, to have this particular way of being in the world.
I need to give myself permission to have the thoughts and feelings that I do, to let them exist.
This is work for me, it’s kind of a fight.
I don’t want to function from a place of shame, or envy, or pretense. I know the cost of that. It’s not worth it.
Yet these are my defaults – to withdraw with embarrassment, to look over my shoulder, to declare it all ‘fine’, everything’s fine.
Brené Brown says we need to reckon with emotion rather than off-load it, and I have learnt (from her) to use permission slips to do this. She says, “writing down permission becomes a powerful intention to stay aware.”
So I pause now, sometimes, before going out the door, and I scribble these notes.
Permission to be excited!
Permission to be nervous.
Permission to tell the truth.
Permission to not know what to say.
It is a simple practice, stuffing my pockets full of paper, but it gives me peace, and it gives me courage.
I use it a lot for the things that make me nervous, and I use it a lot for church, but you could use it for anything.
‘Be Kind to Yourself’ by Andrew Peterson plays every day in our house at the end of our morning playlist.
“How does it end when the war that you’re in is just you against you against you?”
I uncap my pen, rip a piece of paper.
Maybe that war can end here – with pockets full of paper and permission, black uni-ball scribbles and authenticity, walking out the door with courage and peace.
Thanks to Gemma for doing the lovely graphic for this post.