Dad Explains: Permission Granted, Yet By Whom?
Are you asking my permission because you don't want the responsibility that comes with failure or mistakes if they happen?
Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where you backbone ought to be.
Daddy Can I?
The father of a daughter is nothing but a high-class hostage. A father turns a stony face to his sons, berates them, shakes his antlers, paws the ground, snorts, runs them off into the underbrush, but when his daughter puts her arm over his shoulder and says, 'Daddy, I need to ask you something,' he is a pat of butter in a hot frying pan.
My dears, my darlings, my angels. I see you, I do. You’re growing up and it tears at my heart, at my memories of times past and of my understanding, however tenuous and unclear, of what lies ahead. My babies, you’re starting to see there’s more to the world than me, than your mother, than this house and this family.
My desire is that there will never be a time you no longer need me, though my greatest hope is that you get to that point sooner rather than later. Two opposing wishes, two forces pulling at my soul and my very being. I know which one needs to happen though I’m not certain it should, at least in totality.
That view is rather confusing is it not? I agree, so I’ll keep fighting with myself on those fronts, though I’m also aware my impact towards either end consistently diminish with time. Ultimately that will fall upon you to realize and manifest in yourself.
Which brings me to the meat of this rambling point, permission.
Daddy can I?
I don’t know, can you?
Daddy may I?
I do enjoy that performance whenever I am blessed with the chance to partake of it with you. It is not meant to be annoying, not every time at least. There is value in distinctions. Rather, there is value in understanding distinctions and precision in speech when conveying a request, inquiry, desire or declaration.
But it serves another purpose. It allows me to instill a little piece of me, a memory of what I find important in you whenever that thought enters your head. It allows me to plant that memory and hopefully stay with you, even in thought, as long as possible.
So take this piece of advice along for the ride if you can. Permission is experience and intent dependent. When you are young obtaining permission prior to taking many actions is implicit. When you are older it remains the same, more or less, though to whom you must obtain permission varies wildly.
The majority of the time it will be permission from yourself or your conscience. Do not betray that conscience, that little asshole will never leave you alone unless you rectify the situation or kill it. Obviously you should avoid the latter.
But when you’re young that authority to grant permission is easier to identify. We make it so for a few reasons like safety and common sense but it’s also to ensure you’re not overwhelmed. Life is complicated, even when you’re small, so this allows you to adjust to those complexities and acclimate to a higher understanding and a fluidity to actions, reactions, decisions and implementations.
And you’re right there on the cusp of that actualization of independence you think you want to badly right now. Of course you desire it right now and you should. In fact, you shouldn’t let go of that desire, though you surely will a few years after you obtain said independence, though hopefully only for a short while.
So let’s learn about permission and what it entails and who can grant it. Let’s become more familiar with the concept.
I have little desire to dictate your actions, decisions and life. I have four of you, children, that’s like a lot or something. If I made all of your decisions, watched every movement and heard every word all with the intent of truly listening, understanding, and moving forward with the information gathered I would be overwhelmed before I even started.
Screw that, I got my own shit to do. So do you, dear child. Sweet child. You have your own stuff to do, your own life to live, your own mistakes to make, your own path to blaze and your own fires to extinguish. Be sure to rebuild some of those bridges too. Whoops!
Daddy may I get milk?
Uh, is there a milk shortage?
I don’t know.
Then yes, just drink it all.
Thank you.
You’re welcome.
My dear, you may get milk and never ask permission. Though that comes with expectations upon you and responsibilities you must take seriously. If you cannot bring yourself to return the jug into the fridge when you are finished pouring the milk, you will lose that privilege. You will be made to ask each time. I don’t want to be asked each time, it makes no sense you would have to except if in doing so my attention is grabbed so I can then say “Yes you may, but remember to put the milk back in the fridge.”
I shouldn’t have to say that, you shouldn’t have to ask, but show me that this is the case by putting it back in the fridge. If you don’t you impact everyone, including yourself, negatively. It’s as simple as that. When you can act, when you can exist within this small community we call a family and a home and avoid simple issues that negatively impact said community you’ll likely only need to ask for permission in rare and novel circumstances.
Don’t leave the door open when you go, understand you must remain within a certain distance, avoid unsavory individuals, don’t track mud in the house, don’t hit people with bats, stay out of the path of vehicles in motion, and many, many other things. If you can do all that, and you certainly can, and I am aware that you can, why would you need permission to go outside?
Let me know you’re getting milk if you want, then get it. Drink what you pour and return the milk to the fridge. Let me know if you’re heading outside if you want, then go. Avoid death and destruction, don’t get my carpet dirty and we’re Gucci, homie.
Stop Transferring Responsibility
Freedom makes a huge requirement of every human being. With freedom comes responsibility. For the person who is unwilling to grow up, the person who does not want to carry his own weight, this is a frightening prospect.
If you ask me if you can do something you absolve yourself of many potential consequences. Well, in theory anyway. I won’t let you off the hook but you know that by now, presumably.
If you don’t ask for permission and it fails you are ultimately responsible without any but the most fragile of false realities to lean on to excuse yourself or transfer that responsibility. And naturally, as you know, I have no problem shattering that faux reality you may attempt to transfer the “blame” to.
There is comfort in asking permission. It is safe, it is easy and you know you’ll get some direction, even if it’s just yes or no. It takes the effort of choice away from you and transfers it onto me. It gives the appearance of shifting responsibility of outcome as well.
But at a certain point, and this point arrives at different times to different people, it is nothing but a thief. It takes from you. It robs you of that experience, that confidence, that pride and that fall. Asking permission for trivialities to life-defining choices transfers more than responsibility from you to me, it transfers credit.
It wasn’t your choice or your path, it became mine. Regardless of implied, assumed, or real, that will mar many achievements of yours, even when I openly and earnestly deny credit or achievement on my end.
Stop asking permission so much except in novel or truly uncertain situations. If it’s a stupid decision, deal with the repercussions, take responsibility, accept consequences. You’ll have to do all that either way.
By taking it upon yourself to take on a situation or decision in good faith with good intent and common sense you do yourself a favor, you invest in yourself and your future. You tell yourself (and you tell ME) that you are confident, competent, courageous and worthy of trust. I mean that, really. Just show me the competence I know you have and you’ll see a freedom of scrutiny you didn’t know possible!
Not just that, my dear children, not just that at all. You also get credit. That is, you get credit for whatever you accomplish or obtain with no strings attached or asterisks applied. It’s all yours.
And that’s all I want for you. To realize you can make these decisions, whatever they are, and you don’t need to ask my permission. When you goof, you may need to ask my forgiveness, but let’s be serious here.
You know you’ll get it.
I love you,
Dad
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