On the value of permission
Seeking solace, community and affirmation
We are always the expert on ourselves. And yet perspective is skewed when ours is the only voice. Our right people and right relationships are essential because they broaden and clarify our view. In doing so, they offer us something we might not realize we need: permission.
I went to a therapist a few times in my mid-twenties. I didn't see my work going anywhere in the small town where I lived. After a few sessions, I made a plan and moved to Boston. But I was stuck again recently and needed some oomph. And this time, instead of a lightweight messenger bag called job satisfaction, I had a three piece matching set of luggage.
Despite my first early success, therapy neither felt compelling or a good fit. I wanted someone who has been in my shoes and would actually admit it. Someone who wasn't afraid (to lose their license or otherwise) to be vulnerable right back at me. I also wanted action more than reflection. I needed someone who got me and and my kind of baggage.
At this moment in time, when we are uber-connected our right people, right relationships are easier than ever to find. We need to look up and out from our head-down, shoulders pulled inward position, however. But sometimes when we do, right in front of us is the beacon we need.
Inside my checked spinner is a piece of formal wear. Wool and expansive, it takes up most of the 28 x 18. Why are fixations so damn heavy? It's the thought that I am not focused enough as a writer and because of that I will lose people. As someone who believes strongly in the power of togetherness and clarity of language, that feels bad and scary.
...which brings me to my soft-sided duffle: a lack of community. Around me, I see poets, novelists and memoirists pouring their open hearts like steaming ore onto pages. I write narrative non-fiction, research and story with a practical way to take action. Hello? Anybody? Bueller?
Alone and despite tunnel vision in unworthiness, I still placed myself in this room called Writer. Do I deserve to be here? This carry-on spinner of worthiness should have been gate-checked by now, let's be honest. But instead I keep dragging her along.
I met Julia almost a year ago. She was an Instagram connection who lived nearby so we met over real coffee outside. Julia also uses her middle initial and with that shiny fact, I felt an immediate kinship. We stayed in touch and when she launched a Patreon, I joined. I knew Julia could help. Only another writer type could parse through this matched set.
And she did.
With Julia's thoughtful, wise approach, I realized I wasn't as off-base as I'd imagined. She helped me see that my writing isn't as lacking in connection or focus as I had imagined. Could the connections between impact of trauma to perfectionism be smarter? Yes. If my recent foray on André Leon Talley made you pause, I can see why. While the linkages are there, the writing could be tighter. But something else clicked for me, too.
If you're new to me and you close the window on this piece....well yes, I may have lost you. But if you've lingered around my words before, felt moved to keep reading and you close the window on this piece...you'll likely come back. You found value before; you'll come back to do that again. And because you crave other people, as much as I do.
But not just anyone.
"If you look around and don't see people who are like you, that doesn't mean that you're wrong or on the wrong track." Julia said to me. It does mean, she told me, that you need to find people who are like you so you feel less crazy. Right people, right relationships. She affirmed, yes I needed community.
Most of the time we're out here alone, waiting to be chosen. Unless we are the golden child of the family, a white male, worthiness is not a natural feeling. It's no wonder I'd been stumbling between the arrogance in having picked myself and the bewilderment of having made a choice for which I am completely unqualified.
But the answer is not that we wait to be chosen. We cannot outsource our value to an external party.
One of my pretend mentors, Dr Bruce Perry, says we cannot love ourselves unless we have been loved and are loved. The capacity to love cannot be built in isolation. It's the same with worthiness. We must invite in our right people, relationships so that they can support feelings of worthiness within us. With five small words, Julia helped do that for me: “What you’re doing has value." If what I am doing has value, then I do deserve to be in the Writer Room.
Before we ask in our right people, we’re kicking toward shore in a riptide. We exhaust fast and don't get anywhere. In a riptide moment, we must stay calm and wave for help. We need to allow our people to come get us.
With their words -- which can sound like "You don't need to ____" or "You're so good at that," or "What about not doing it?" but can also sound like "It's not you," or "Me too," or "Your work matters."— or with actions like listening or offering informed, useful resources.
One afternoon, I found the most beautiful vintage dress from in a local shop. I wasn't sure if it would fit and there was no place to try it on but I bought it anyway. I knew I could take it to Gudrun. Gudrun had saved another vintage find, altering it so it would fit as intended. I brought the dress to Gudrun and stepped behind her curtain to slip it on. I couldn't get the dress on all the way. Devastated, I changed and shared the bad news.
"Gudrun, what if I lost five pounds?" I asked. "It would fit then, right?"
She looked at me.
"You have hips, Elizabeth." Gudrun replied. "You could lose twenty pounds and this dress would never fit you."
This was a revelation. Losing weight wasn't the answer? I'd assumed that was always the remedy if clothes didn't fit. It never occurred to me that perhaps I wasn't the problem.
Most of us are trying to squeeze ourselves into dresses that will never fit. Then blaming and shaming ourselves when we inevitably fail. We don't find ourselves drowning in matched luggage because we did something wrong. Wrong is the culture that borrows our humanity on credit, then goes on a spending spree. It takes someone else to point out the obvious: it's not us; the dress wasn't designed with us in mind.
Our right people offer us our humanity back with this observation. In doing so, they give us permission. Permission to do the thing our heart is crying out for. Permission to believe in ourselves, even though we've learned the opposite. Permission to call ourselves by the name we want. Permission to break down, admit that we're lonely.
The hardest part of the work is not doing the work. The hardest part of the work is being vulnerable enough to invite someone in. That's the thing about looking up and out: seeing someone useful is inevitable. But we need to take the action and make the ask in order to get the value. Allowing someone to see us shapes not only who we are but what our work could become. Rarer than ever but no less important than always.
What’s On My Mind:
Larissa Parson and I have released our first Wondermine bonus episode on books! (Yes, there are 2 and likely more). It’s here and more bonus content to come along with our Patreon launch in March.
I get that trauma has become a buzz word and in doing so, has lost some meaning. And it is still a thing that matters being named so people can understand some of the universality of their experience and hopefully gain some some community, healing around it.
Speaking of finding meaning, Dr Pauline Boss says that our ability to find meaning in this time of ambiguous loss is a way we can become more resilient. Dr Boss is a long-time favorite of mine. If you’re someone who prefers listening over reading, check out this episode of On Being with Dr Boss.
Reading some Amanda Gorman for perspective, thoughts of peace and hopefully some calm in these days that feel exhausting with stress and endless with strife. Subscribe to Amanda’s newsletter or buy her books here.
Friends, hang tight. I have to believe that after the plague comes the renaissance. If you’re struggling, reach out. And remember, you’re not alone. I’ll be back in two weeks. <3