Who Am I Waiting on to Give Me Permission?

Learning to make room for the little things that bring me joy.

I saw the most beautiful ceramic coffee mug the other day. Completely unnecessary, a little whimsical, and probably not everyone's cup of tea. But I loved it.

And almost immediately, before I could even enjoy the thought of having it, my mind started making excuses for why I shouldn't.

Don't I already have enough mugs? How often would I really use it? Would anyone else in the house like it? Did I really need another thing to spend money on?

It occurred to me that I hadn't even given myself a chance to want it before I started talking myself out of it.

And it wasn't really about the mug.

It was about the fact that I rarely give myself permission to want the things I want unless they fit neatly into some imaginary box I've created.

Is it useful? Is there something else my family needs instead? Does it suit the rest of the things I own, or will it stick out and seem too showy? Can I justify spending money on it?

Apparently, simply liking something has never been a good enough reason.

I think about this a lot when it comes to clothing.

I love whimsical clothing. The flowing fabrics, layered accessories, beautiful textures, and modern boho dresses. The kind of clothing that has personality and makes you feel like you're expressing a little piece of yourself.

Which is funny, considering I haven't worn a dress since my ninth-grade prom!

Instead, I tend to stick to inexpensive Walmart leggings and basic Christian T-shirts. They're comfortable, practical, and don't draw much attention.

And I think that's part of the appeal.

Clothing like that allows me to remain unseen. I don't stand out, I don't invite attention, and I don't have to worry about what someone might think of the way I've chosen to present myself.

I've always made excuses about why I don't dress the way I'd really like to. I tell myself that I would need an entirely new wardrobe, that I couldn't pull off the look without having all the right pieces, or that it simply wouldn't suit me.

It's an all-or-nothing way of thinking that I've become quite familiar with.

But lately, I've started wondering if those excuses are really just another kind of shield.

Because the truth is, I've come to realize that I get a tremendous amount of joy simply from being surrounded by things I find beautiful.

A cozy room with warm lighting. A whimsical little decoration. A piece of clothing with interesting details. A mug that makes my morning coffee feel just a little more special.

These aren't things I need to survive. They're not particularly important in the grand scheme of life.

But they make me happy.

And why have I decided that happiness needs to be justified?

Now, I don't want to confuse giving myself permission to enjoy things with becoming wasteful or impulsive. I don't want to spend money on every passing whim or fill my home with things that will lose their appeal by next Tuesday.

I still value being practical. I still want to be thoughtful about how I spend our money and what I bring into our home.

But I'm beginning to understand that there's a difference between being responsible and automatically denying myself something simply because I want it.

And I think, for me, that difference goes much deeper than a coffee mug.

I've started to recognize two things about myself that may explain why I struggle so much with allowing my own wants and preferences to matter.

The first is that staying hidden feels safe.

When I don't draw attention to myself, I don't have to worry as much about being noticed, judged, or misunderstood.

But there's another layer to that.

If people don't notice me, perhaps they won't need anything from me.

And if they don't need anything from me, perhaps I won't have to worry about disappointing them, exhausting myself trying to meet their expectations, or opening myself up to being hurt.

I know that probably sounds like an awful lot of emotional baggage to attach to a pretty dress or a ceramic coffee mug.

But sometimes the smallest things reveal the biggest patterns in our lives.

The second thing I've realized is that not wanting anything makes me easier to accommodate.

Or perhaps more accurately, it makes me more accommodating.

If I don't have a preference, there's no disagreement. If I don't express a need, nobody has to consider it. If I don't want anything, there's nothing to negotiate.

And if everyone else is happy, then I can relax.

At least, that's what I've spent much of my life believing.

Take something as ordinary as dinner.

I'm the cook in our family, and there are certain foods I absolutely love. But if nobody else in the house enjoys them, I simply don't make them.

Not occasionally. Not as a special treat for myself. Sometimes not at all.

Instead, I plan meals around what everyone else likes, because that's what makes the most sense. Why would I make something that only I enjoy when I'm responsible for feeding everyone?

And on the surface, that seems perfectly reasonable.

But when I really think about it, why shouldn't I occasionally make something just because I enjoy it?

Why does everyone else's preference automatically outweigh mine?

I can prepare food my family enjoys and still make room for something I love. Those two things don't have to be in competition.

And I think that's the part I've been missing.

Considering other people doesn't have to mean excluding myself.

I can love my family, care about their comfort, and be mindful of their needs without constantly placing my own wants at the very bottom of the list.

I can share a home with other people and still allow my personality to have a place in it.

I can wear something beautiful without needing an occasion, a particular body type, or the approval of anyone else.

I can enjoy something whimsical without having to prove that it's useful.

And I can make my favorite meal even if I'm the only person at the table who wants to eat it.

None of these things requires me to become selfish or inconsiderate.

They simply require me to acknowledge that I'm a person in this family, too.

I think there's also a part of this that connects to my faith.

For a long time, I've associated being a good Christian with being selfless, putting others first, and not becoming too attached to material things.

And those are important principles.

But somewhere along the way, I think I began confusing selflessness with having no self at all.

I don't believe God calls me to make an idol out of my own happiness, but I also don't believe He requires me to erase every personal preference, desire, or little thing that brings me joy.

There's a difference between loving others sacrificially and believing that my own needs and wants should never be considered.

And perhaps learning that difference is part of the growth He's been leading me through.

I'm beginning to see that I don't have to earn the right to enjoy my own life by first making sure everyone around me is completely satisfied.

Because, if I'm being realistic, when is that ever going to happen?

There will always be another responsibility, another expense, another person who needs something, or another reason to put myself last.

And if I wait until every need has been met and every possible objection has been eliminated, I'll probably spend the rest of my life admiring pretty mugs from a distance.

So I'm trying something different.

I'm learning to allow myself to have preferences without immediately explaining them away.

To notice the things that bring me joy without automatically dismissing them as unnecessary.

To make room for little pieces of myself in my home, my wardrobe, my routines, and even on my dinner plate.

Not all at once, and certainly not perfectly.

Maybe it starts with wearing a bracelet I love, even if it doesn't match everything else.

Maybe it's making my favorite meal and letting everyone else figure out what they'd like to eat that evening.

Maybe it's choosing a paint color simply because walking into that room makes me smile.

And maybe, one day, it's buying the whimsical little coffee mug without spending twenty minutes convincing myself that I shouldn't.

I don't think the goal is to become someone who always gets what she wants.

I think the goal is to become someone who no longer feels guilty for wanting anything at all.

Because there's a difference between denying myself something out of wisdom and denying myself something because I don't believe I'm worth considering.

And that's a difference I'm still learning to recognize.

So, if you're anything like me, perhaps there's a little something you've been quietly admiring, enjoying from a distance, or talking yourself out of.

Maybe it's something you want to wear, a hobby you'd like to try, a room you'd love to decorate, or a meal nobody else in your family enjoys.

It doesn't have to cost money. It doesn't have to be practical. And it certainly doesn't have to make sense to everyone else.

Maybe the first step isn't even allowing yourself to have it.

Maybe it's simply allowing yourself to want it.

Without guilt. Without justification. Without immediately asking whether someone else would approve.

And perhaps, as we learn to make room for these little pieces of ourselves, we'll discover that they were never quite as frivolous as we thought.

Maybe they're small reminders that our lives are worth participating in, not just managing for everyone else.

And that somewhere among the responsibilities, expectations, and rough patches of real life, there's still room for a little whimsy.

So here's a question for you: What's one little thing you've been waiting for permission to enjoy?

Maybe it's time to give yourself that permission.