Category: permission

introversion & authenticity

Not everyone will like you, but you have to give them the opportunity to make that choice.

Last week I posted about permission and having no regrets. I realized that my only regrets in life are regrets of omission– that perhaps I hadn’t fully participated in life. For instance, I’ve never been much of an athlete, but I was great at swimming. I probably could have really made something of myself on that front, but I got really focused on school and swimming took a back seat. I never continued to develop into the really strong swimmer I could have been. But I can always take up swimming again.  More than failing to hone a skill, what I regret more are missed relationship opportunities.

Every year toward the end of school I would start really getting to know a handful of people, and they’d always say something like, “You should talk more!” or “I didn’t know you were funny.” I guess I always subconsciously felt I had nothing to lose by showing my true colors right before saying goodbye. I was too shy to reveal too much of myself during the rest of the school year. I was always afraid I’d scare people away, even though experience showed that true friends had always been gained when I let my “freak flag fly.” The right friends are the ones who love you for who you are, to whom you are a special treasure because so few are allowed into your world.

But part of me regrets missing out on what other friendships might have been if I hadn’t been so afraid of opening up around people. It’s okay to only let the right ones into your inner circle. In fact, I think it’s entirely healthy. But that doesn’t mean it’s healthy to close yourself off from everyone else. Not everyone will like you, but you have to give them the opportunity to make that choice.

For us introverted types, it often feels safe to be neutral. We’re behind-the-scenes types. We’re observers. Some may even call us floaters. We get along with everyone and don’t fit neatly into cliques, because we don’t really broadcast enough of ourselves for people to put a label on us. But you know what they say: still waters run deep. It’s okay to not have clearly defined, superficial characteristics that allow others to file us away neatly in a box.

Just like honesty is always the best policy, you should always be yourself. Be authentic with everyone. You don’t have to unleash 100% of your personality all the time, but don’t let your shyness be an excuse to not engage with people. If you scare them away, fine. But keeping yourself to yourself might be depriving both you and someone else of a really great friendship. So don’t be afraid to show your true colors. You’ll attract the right people, and the ones you might “scare away” probably aren’t the right people to be around. If you remain in a corner, you’ll never know who may have been drawn to your flame.

permission

The only difference between you and the people you’re comparing yourself to (and asking permission from) is that they’ve put themselves out there. Did they ask your permission?

I still struggle greatly with allowing myself to pursue what my gut tells me to, but a couple years ago I had a moment of great clarity: I found myself in tears because I realized that I’m always asking for permission for everything. Permission is huge for me, and I’d love to get at the psychological underpinnings of the habit to seek outside affirmation. Am I that riddled with self-doubt? I not only seek permission for things I want to do; for whatever reason I always feel the need to rationalize the things I have to do.

Recently I got hit with an insane workload at my day job (more on this later). Normally, I would feel super stressed out by this, but I find myself unusually calm. I figured it’s because it’s work that I know so well I could do it in my sleep, so breaking it up into manageable chunks and just showing up and doing it isn’t all that daunting. But the sheer volume of the work really is daunting. So what’s different? Why don’t I feel all that anxious? I think it’s that I have permission to put all of my time into the task at hand. My boss made sure I’d have time to do the job instead of being expected to do a bunch of other tasks each day. So I can walk into work with no surprises, and with the tacit agreement that everyone knows that I’m supposed to work on this one big job.

Doing what you’ve been told to do feels safe. Doing something that you want to do is scary. There’s definitely fear behind needing permission. Fear of disapproval, of failure, of looking foolish, of being alone, or of believing that your endeavors aren’t really worthwhile. But only you have the power to be you, and only you can give yourself permission to be your full self. There’s no reason you should seek someone else’s permission to be yourself. You have to be the catalyst, and you have to keep the momentum going. You can’t be authentic if you’re waiting for someone else to tell you what you should do or who you should be. So every story you write, decision you make, drawing you draw—every step you take that you gave yourself permission to take—is what gets the momentum of your success going. The more you keep going, the less you’ll care about what other people think. You will have found your path and your voice and your stride and your rhythm, and no one can tell you it’s wrong and no one can take it from you. So “you do you,” as they say, because no one else can.

Consistency is what gives you permission to call yourself something.

I still have a hard time giving myself permission to call myself an artist, even if others label me as such. I’m only beginning to come around to the idea that I can call myself a writer because I write. I get up every morning and write. It’s something I do every day. I write every day, so I’m a writer. I don’t really “do art” every single day, so I don’t feel justified calling myself that. Consistency is what gives you permission to call yourself something. You can call yourself whatever you want; it’s what you actually do that people will notice and identify you by. Who you are isn’t defined by whether or not you’re getting attention, or if somebody picked you out of a lineup of other people vying for attention, or somebody telling you that you’re good enough. You are what you consistently do. Everyone else is too worried about themselves to give you permission to be you, so don’t bother living for anyone else’s approval. Chances are, whatever it is your heart is telling you to do isn’t going to end in mass destruction. If you’re adding to the good, you’re adding to the good, even if no one praises you for it, even if no one notices.

So quit hiding behind the excuse that what you’re doing isn’t polished. Everyone’s life is a work in progress. But it doesn’t add to the good if you don’t put it out there. The only difference between you and the people you’re comparing yourself to (and asking permission from) is that they’ve put themselves out there. Did they ask your permission? Maybe you won’t change the world, but playing it safe and keeping yourself to yourself doesn’t change the world either. When you show up every day, you are showing up to the same world as everyone else, but you are showing up with your story.

When I think back and try to recall any regrets in my life, i can only think that there are many times I didn’t push myself to my full potential. I wasted time waiting for someone to tell me what to do. Any time I’ve put my authentic self forward and did what I wanted to do without permission, it has only ever been a good result. Permission is an illusion. My only regrets are when I’ve not showed up, when I haven’t fully participated in life. I own the power to show up and follow my gut when I own the fact that I’m the author of my reality. I don’t need your permission to do great things. You don’t need my permission to be excellent. You are because you do. Do your thing every day.

freedom & frustration

How is it that I can be faced with all the freedom in the world, and respond with nothing but fear and frustration?

I am coming to realize more and more that I lack motivation out of a sense of guilt and/or duty. I always feel that I ought to be doing something other than my own work, and that I must have express permission to do what I would like to do.

I have the whole day to myself, and have been encouraged to do art all day without feeling any guilt whatsoever about not doing anything else (like making things that others have requested, or cleaning the house). So I’m up at dawn, having set up my art supplies the night before. I sit at my art desk with everything accessible, dog curled up at my feet, Radio Paradise on low.

But…eeesh. There’s a blank canvas staring at me. That’s daunting. Paint. I have an idea of what I’d like to do, but I still don’t know if I’m quite ready for that just yet. Maybe I’ll warm up a bit by doodling with markers in my sketchbook. This is proving to be not so fruitful either.

Suddenly I find myself crying. Then crying becomes sobbing. Deep, hard sobs.

What has happened? What’s wrong with me? What is this deep-seated frustration and why can I not simply draw some colorful poppies? I don’t know the specifics, but I think the freedom is too much for me to handle. I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know in what medium I feel comfortable. Just sitting down to “create something” is too tall of an order. Too lofty. Too vague. I have my choice of any medium, but I’m daunted by all of them. I’m not even sure that it’s a fear of failure or imperfection that stunts the creative flow.

I fear that my medium is here on the page, which is why I’m writing until the urge to cry subsides. But facing this fear and telling myself that I’m perfectly capable of creating whatever I want to create only makes me more emotional.

I don’t think it’s the fear of NOT being able to do something that makes me tearful. It’s accepting positive thoughts about myself and my abilities that always prove unbearably touching. I can handle criticism like a champ, but compliments and beauty undo me. In wanting to participate in everything creative and beautiful, I find myself completely frozen. I desperately want to accept permission from myself as readily as from others. I wish I knew what I ought to do. And I feel silly that these are the questions floating around in the cocktail of doubt that is my subconscious. I guess I just wish I were a stronger person with a stronger sense of direction.

My solution for today will be to take refuge in some good music & coffee, cuddle with the pup, and write until I have something worthy to commit to paper on my beautiful Remington. Surely this is the stuff of inspiration.

© 2025 Veronica Lee Bishop

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