Recently, I gave myself a little bit of permission. And it gave me back so much more.
It was around 4:00pm on a Friday, and I was trying to decide if I was going to go out just to buy some sliced bread as we had run out of it the night before. Do I go to the supermarket and pick up a few other grocery items so I can make the most out of the trip? But I had just done groceries two days before, and we didn’t really need anything else right then.
As I was thinking about it, I suddenly felt like having a snack. Not my usual homemade peanut-butter-and-chocolate-spread-on-wholewheat-bread sandwich but something that felt more like a simple yummy treat, like that sugar-and-cheese bread I like from Four Leaves, and maybe some chocolate chip cookies from Subway.
After a few minutes of mentally oscillating while getting dressed, I made the decision to indulge myself. I gave myself permission to walk to the nearby mall simply to buy some bread and pastries that I wanted for an afternoon snack, for dessert later, or for whenever. I figured why not just go out for a few minutes, not to do an errand or to be productive, and instead just to be outside and to treat myself to a little something.
As I was walking to the mall, I felt this palpable sense of delight and satisfaction slowly, surprisingly blooming. I was so pleased with myself, so happy at the thought of indulging with a few minutes and a few dollars just for myself. No maximizing of time and effort, no stacking of household errands and must-dos to justify the twenty-minute trip. Just letting loose for a little bit.
That night, I told my husband about this strange and surprising sensation of freedom and delight I experienced. I sort of knew how he would react because I also thought about it afterwards. He said that it’s sad because it showed how much I’ve been depriving myself. It showed that the simple act of going out to buy a snack I wanted was something I saw as a reward or treat rather than an ordinary thing for me to do.
Then these words came to me: I have been depriving myself by deprioritizing myself. For decades. Since I stopped working and became a housewife / homemaker / stay-at-home mom (I still don’t know which of these terms to use, and I still don’t like any of them). Not because anyone asked it or expected it of me. Or rather, no one other than myself, with my own deep-seated belief, my own shadowy self-talk telling me to always put everyone else’s needs and wants, everyone else’s cravings and appointments and laundry and wishlists before my own. And even when there weren’t any little kids anymore to chase around, no more children to homeschool, no piles of laundry currently demanding attention, no other family members currently in the house that I needed to feed, somehow I still felt a little guilty (yes, that ominous mom guilt is strong in this one) at the thought of spending time or money ONLY FOR MYSELF. Somewhere along the way in my life thus far, I imbibed the notion that a mother who doesn’t earn an income is a little less than, that a stay-at-home mother has to prove her worth or clock in her hours by doing it all and being everything for everyone else first and always.
From the blogosphere: Check out this post by Liz Greene about why the term ‘stay-at-home mom’ is problematic (I agree) because of its semantic implications and limitations.
“Can We Replace the Term ‘Stay-at-Home Mom’ Already?” written by Liz Greene, Mother/Untitled.com
So, when I gave myself permission to do a little spontaneous thing just for myself, it was not little after all. It was monumental for me. Monumental enough to discuss with my husband, monumental enough to give me a eureka moment (self-deprivation through self-deprioritization, yikes, something I need to unpack and to process further), monumental enough to write about and to share with readers who might be unknowingly doing the same thing or with readers who might know a mother who’s going through the same thing and needs a eureka moment too.
Have you ever had a small and monumental moment like this? Is it easy or difficult for you to give yourself permission? Or do you even feel the need for permission? How about giving yourself permission to share your story with me here in the comments below or on my Instagram page? I’d love to hear your thoughts, your stories, your permission moments.
Featured Image Photo by Dave Takisaki on Unsplash