Giving Yourself Permission

Permission is familiar to me. In theory, as people who work for ourselves, we're swimming in permission. In theory, we have total autonomy about what we do, when we do it and how we go about it. In theory. 

I wonder if having such control over my everyday inflicts the total opposite. If the lack of a trodden path urges me to walk the concrete one. If my open calendar and flexible routine subscribes me to the norm of a 9-5 schedule. If the endless list of what I could do forces me to cling to what 'work' traditionally looks like, intimidated by the notion of pushing boundaries or playing big. 

There's a difference between having the option to do something and feeling the permission to follow through with it and therefore do that thing. The latter being what drew me to write this letter. 

For me (and I'm going to assume for you too) there's two very distinct types of permission I find I have to grant myself.


THE PERMISSION TO STOP

I hate (and by hate I mean, it makes me throw up a bit in my mouth when I hear it) the word hustle. It brings with it a pressure to be always doing. An association between how many hours I put in and how 'successful' I'll eventually be. 

How do I know that association to be false? Because I've been there. 2016 was full - every day of the week, (almost) every awake hour of each day, spent working and consumed by that pressure to do. Fast forward to January 2019 and my identity was so wrapped up in my ability to work that stopping felt like a betrayal against who I was.

The permission to stop was non-existent, so much so that my body stopped for me.

Eventually granting myself the permission to stop wasn't a one time thing. I give myself permission to stop each time I see others playing big whilst I'm taking a day off. I give myself permission to stop each time I wake up sick, begrudgingly accepting that my personal health takes priority over work and I'm best at what I do when I look after myself. And I give myself permission to stop when I want to or feel like it, because that's enough reason in itself.

*insert that quote about not being able to pour from an empty cup*


THE PERMISSION TO RISK

One of my biggest fears is that I'll get to the end of my life, consumed by a list of ideas I had, but having nothing to show for them. You see, I'm naturally drawn to what's new, unknown and holds the possibility of being better than what I have now. As an entrepreneur, it's probably what first draw me to carving my own path through life.

But that natural attraction to what's new doesn't mean I hold the self belief or gut to follow through on that concept or idea. What's missing in that moment is permission.

Permission to risk my reputation. Permission to risk my financial security. Permission to risk peoples faith in me. Permission to risk losing what stability or identity I've currently built.

But if there's anything that my business has taught me, it's that something remarkable happens when I (sometimes with a little hesitation) give myself the permission to risk. Sometimes the risk doesn't go the way I hoped, but I learn invaluable lessons and find my gut instinct enriched with a new level of certainty. And sometimes it goes exactly, or often better, than I could've ever imagined or hoped. I wish for my life to be defined by both of these risks.

That's the thing about risk, you can make it as calculated as you like, but you never quite know until you try. 


OVER AND OUT

Right now, giving myself the permission to either stop or risk feels like a daily occurrence. I'm days away from launching the most risk filled project I've ever worked on, whilst simultaneously dealing with a less than perfect personal life which is requiring me to take my days a little slower and step back from the 'hustle' *voms in mouth*.

Whether you feel in need of the permission to stop, risk or just keep doing what you're doing right now, my hope is that you give it to yourself. Not search for it in others or red flags, but empower yourself with the permission you're in need of. 

Thank you for giving me permission to show up with my narrative. It means more than you know. 

Cheering you on big time.
x x