Being a kid is easy (for the most part). It has its trials and tribulations, sure, but it’s nothing compared to adulthood. When you’re a kid, decisions are made for you, for better or worse. When you’re faced with indecision or find yourself straddling a fence, a trusted adult figure is almost always there to direct traffic. Granted, the decisions you’re facing are typically not earth shattering: do you choose a vanilla cupcake or chocolate cupcake? Do you swing on the swing or go down the slide?
Another lovely non-issue about childhood is that you’re allowed to feel your feelings. The older you get, the more aware you become of not wanting to be too emotional, too vulnerable, too anything. You learn to keep a cap on it, whereas when you’re a kid, adults are gentler with you and urge you to express whatever it is you’re feeling in that moment be it sadness, frustration, anger, or confusion. In adulthood, if you stomp your foot or cry out in a fit of rage, you’re told to grow up and stop acting like a child.
Adults are expected to not only handle their shit, but to not dwell. To be decisive, learn from their mistakes, and move on. But sometimes (a lot of the time), it’s not that easy. Sometimes you catch yourself in a moment where you’re wondering where the adults are. You find yourself yearning for someone else to make a decision for you or, at the very least, make whatever decision you’ve already made okay.
You want permission.
And it’s why I still turn to my mom in those life moments, to hear the four words I desperately need to hear: “I give you permission.”