Somewhere Between Raising a Family and Getting Older, I Finally Stopped Asking for Permission to Live My Own Life

For most of my adult life, I don't think I realized how often I was asking for permission.

Not literally.

I wasn't walking around saying, "Excuse me, is it okay if I do this?"

It was much sneakier than that.

I'd think about doing something I wanted and immediately wonder what everyone else would think.

Would my family be okay with it?

Would someone think I was being selfish?

Should I spend the money?

Should I stay home?

Should I go?

Should I change my hair?

Should I buy the stupid thing that makes me happy even though I absolutely do not need it?

And my personal favorite: What if someone gets mad?

That one controlled way too many decisions.

Somewhere between raising a family, getting older, and realizing that life moves ridiculously fast, something changed.

I stopped asking.

I Didn't Even Realize I Was Doing It

When you have a family, you get used to considering everyone else.

That's part of loving people.

You think about what they need. You make sacrifices. You change plans. You spend money on them instead of yourself.

And when you're a mom, putting yourself last can start to feel normal.

You eat after everyone else.

You buy the kids clothes while wearing the same old shirt you've had forever.

You make appointments for everybody and forget to make your own.

You know exactly what everyone likes at the grocery store, but when someone asks what you want, you suddenly have no idea.

"What do you want for dinner?"

I don't know.

"What do you want to do this weekend?"

I don't know.

"What do you want?"

That question gets surprisingly difficult when you've spent years thinking about what everybody else wants.

Being Needed Becomes Part of Who You Are

There were years when it felt like someone needed me every five minutes.

Mom.

Mom.

Mooooom.

Where's my shirt?

Do we have milk?

Can you take me here?

What's for dinner?

Have you seen my charger?

No, I have not seen your charger.

But apparently, because I am the mother, I am also the official Keeper of All Chargers.

Then the kids start getting older.

They don't need you in quite the same way.

And that's a strange adjustment.

For years, you dream about having five uninterrupted minutes to yourself.

Then suddenly you start getting them.

And sometimes you don't know what to do with them.

I Had to Remember Who I Was

This sounds dramatic, but I think it's something a lot of women experience.

You spend so many years being somebody's something.

Somebody's wife.

Somebody's mom.

Somebody's daughter.

Somebody's grandma.

Somebody's problem solver.

And those are parts of who I am. Important parts.

But they're not all of me.

There was a person here before everyone needed something from me.

She liked things.

She wanted things.

She had ideas.

She was probably a little weird.

Okay, she was definitely weird.

And she's still here.

I'm just getting reacquainted with her.

I Don't Need a Good Enough Reason Anymore

This has probably been one of the biggest changes for me.

I used to think wanting something wasn't enough of a reason to do it.

There had to be some practical justification.

Now I'm starting to think, "Because it makes me happy" is actually a pretty decent reason.

Obviously, I'm not talking about blowing the mortgage payment on a llama because owning a llama suddenly sounds fun.

Although now that I've typed that, a llama does sound kind of fun.

I'm talking about the little things we talk ourselves out of.

Buying something for yourself.

Taking a trip.

Starting something new.

Spending an afternoon doing absolutely nothing productive.

Trying a hobby you're probably going to be terrible at.

Changing your mind.

You don't always need a better reason.

Sometimes wanting to is enough.

I'm Also Done Explaining Everything

I am an overexplainer.

I've always felt like if I said no to something, I needed to provide enough information for the other person to agree that my no was reasonable.

That's ridiculous when you think about it.

"No, I can't make it."

That's a complete answer.

I don't need to explain my schedule from Tuesday through Saturday so someone can decide whether my reason meets the Official Standards for Saying No.

Sometimes I can't.

Sometimes I don't want to.

Sometimes I'm tired.

Sometimes I want to sit on my couch in comfortable clothes and watch something I've already seen three times.

I'm getting better at letting that be enough.

Getting Older Changes Your Math

When you're 20, life feels enormous.

There is always next year.

I'll do it later.

I'll go someday.

I'll start eventually.

Then you get older and "someday" starts feeling a lot less comforting.

You realize how quickly ten years can disappear.

One minute your kids are little and your house is covered in toys.

Then you blink.

Suddenly they're grown or almost grown, you're looking at old pictures wondering how those babies became adults, and you're questioning why nobody warned you that the years would go this fast.

It changes the way you think about time.

At least it did for me.

I don't want to keep saving my life for later.

I'm Still Going to Take Care of My People

This isn't some declaration that I'm done caring about everyone and I'm running away to live alone in a cabin.

First of all, I like indoor plumbing too much.

I love my family.

I will always worry about them.

I'll probably always do too much for them.

That's who I am.

The difference is that I'm finally realizing taking care of people I love doesn't require disappearing myself.

There can be room for them and room for me.

I don't know why that took me so long to understand.

Maybe This Is What This Stage of Life Is Supposed to Be

We're told so many depressing things about getting older.

Everything is supposed to hurt.

We're supposed to hate our wrinkles.

We're supposed to desperately try to look younger.

We're supposed to be terrified that our best years are behind us.

I'm not sure I believe that anymore.

Maybe one of the best parts of getting older is finally knowing yourself well enough to stop asking everyone else who you're supposed to be.

I'm still figuring it out.

I'm still going to overthink things sometimes.

I'm still going to say yes when I should have said no.

I'm still going to worry about what someone thinks and then get annoyed with myself for worrying about it.

I'm human.

But I'm getting better.

I'm learning that I don't need permission to take up space in my own life.

I don't need permission to want things.

I don't need permission to change.

And I definitely don't need permission to be happy.

It took raising a family and getting older for me to finally understand something that sounds ridiculously simple when I say it out loud:

This is my life too.

And I think I'm finally ready to start acting like it.