Permission Starts With You
Most of the rules we follow weren’t chosen—they were inherited
We all pick up rules as we grow—some are said out loud, but most just sneak in.
You hear them at home, at school, on teams, in church, at work. You absorb them from ads, movies, social feeds, even your friends. Over time, they start to feel like truth.
Be productive. Look the part. Don’t complain. Work harder. Don’t fall behind. Earn your spot. Earn your rest.
But here’s the thing—most of these rules were never really yours. You didn’t decide they made sense. You just took them in. Because they were everywhere. Because people you trusted followed them too.
That’s how invisible scripts work. They shape how you think, how you move, how you define progress—without you even realizing it. And even when the rules don’t make sense, you keep obeying them. Because they feel familiar. Because breaking the pattern feels risky. Because they seem like what you’re supposed to do.
But you’re not here to live by someone else’s rules.
At some point, you have to pause and ask: Does this rule actually help me? Or is it just what I’ve always done?
That moment—the moment you question it—is where permission starts. Not permission from someone else. Permission from you.
“You have to decide who you are and force the world to deal with that, not with its idea of you.” — James Baldwin
Where Did That Rule Even Come From?
Most of the rules we follow didn’t come with labels. No one sat you down and said, “Here’s how you should live.”
All these rules just showed up—subtle, unspoken, and everywhere.
You probably don’t remember the first time you heard “don’t quit” or “work comes first.” You just picked it up.
Maybe your parents modeled it—always staying busy, rarely resting, never asking for help.
Maybe a coach told you to push through no matter what—and you got rewarded for toughness, not honesty.
Maybe teachers praised you for being quiet, compliant, and hardworking—so you learned that obedience gets approval.
Maybe in church, you heard that sacrifice is noble. Or from TV, that success means money, abs, and always doing more. Or online, that if you’re not grinding, you’re falling behind.
None of those ideas were handed to you with a warning label. They were just woven into the culture around you.
And here’s the tricky part: most of these scripts aren’t all bad.
Structure matters. Effort matters. Showing up matters.
But when those rules become absolute—when you follow them automatically, without choice—they stop helping and start holding you back.
You push through pain, even when it slows your progress. You avoid rest, even when you're running on fumes. You stay silent, avoid asking for help, and keep grinding—because that’s what you’ve been taught strong looks like.
Not because it’s working. But because it’s what you’re supposed to do.
But here’s the truth: If you didn’t choose the rule, you don’t have to keep the rule.
You can trace it. Question it. Decide if it still serves the version of you you’re trying to become. And if it doesn’t? You get to drop it.
That’s not weakness. That’s ownership.
Why Obeying the Script Holds You Back
The rules you carry do more than shape your habits—they shape your limits.
They quietly dictate what you’re “allowed” to want, how you define effort, when you’ve earned rest, and what kind of success counts.
And here’s the problem: most of that happens without you realizing it. You end up playing by a script you never chose, because it feels normal. Familiar. Safe.
Here are three of the biggest ways that script holds you back:
1. Fear: You’re scared to break the pattern
When a rule feels like the right way, doing something different feels like failure.
You worry you’re falling behind. You second-guess your decisions. You wonder if people will judge you for changing course.
That fear keeps you stuck.
You keep pushing—even when you need recovery. You stick to plans that no longer fit. You chase goals that aren’t even yours—just to prove you’re doing it “right.”
All that effort goes toward maintaining rules you didn’t even choose, and none of it brings you closer to what actually matters.
2. Conflict: The rules don’t even agree
You’ve picked up so many “shoulds” that they start to clash.
Push harder—but don’t burn out.
Stay disciplined—but don’t be too rigid.
Never miss a day—but listen to your body.
Work full-time—but be fully present for your family.
So which is it? The more rules you collect, the more confusing it gets.
You waste time and energy trying to get it perfect—while your real needs go unmet. You’re just stuck in a game where the rules contradict each other.
3. Invisibility: You don’t even realize it’s a rule.
This is the most dangerous trap—the script you didn’t even know you were following.
You say yes to everything because you think saying no is selfish.
You stay in roles, jobs, or routines that don’t fit—because “this is just how it is.”
You pursue goals that don’t light you up—because they look good on paper, or because everyone else seems to be chasing them.
You never stop to ask: Is this even mine?
It doesn’t feel like a choice—it just feels normal. Expected. Safe. And even when it’s not working, you keep going—because the alternative feels selfish, risky, or wrong.
But that “normal” isn’t truth. It’s just a pattern. And patterns can be rewritten.
That’s why permission matters. Not from the world. From you.
How to Break the Rules That Don’t Serve You
My handwriting has always been terrible.
In elementary school, it felt like the most important thing in the world was learning cursive. I was told it would be expected in middle school. So I practiced. I struggled. I stressed over loops and slants, and my grades.
But when I got to middle school? No one cared about cursive. Suddenly, the new rule was write in pen—because that’s what high school expects. So I adjusted again. Pen only. Neat notes. No mistakes.
Then I got to high school, and the new rule was: everything must be typed, in a very specific format. Because college demands it. So I learned to type and follow the structure.
And when I finally got to college? None of it mattered; there were new rules.
The rules kept changing, but the pressure stayed the same. Always a new standard to chase. Always some future expectation shaping how I live in the present.
That’s how most invisible scripts work. They sound like preparation. Like responsibility. Like “what you’re supposed to do.”
But when you finally get there, you realize—no one’s actually checking.
That’s the wake-up call: the rules you’ve been following might not even exist anymore. Or they were never real in the first place. And even if they once served you, that doesn’t mean they still do.
A few years ago, I started journaling. At first, I felt embarrassed by my handwriting—and all those old rules came rushing back. But then someone gave me a simple piece of advice: make it yours.
So I did. I found a journal I liked. I picked a pen that felt good in my hand. I stopped trying to write “neatly.” And I gave myself permission to let it be mine. Now I own that messy handwriting—and I’m good with it.
So here’s the move:
Start noticing the rules you’re living by.
Ask where they came from.
Ask if they still make sense.
Then—when you’re ready—give yourself permission to let them go.
Not all at once. Not recklessly.
But on purpose. With clarity.
Because the most powerful kind of progress isn’t about doing more—it’s about choosing which rules actually belong in the life you’re building… and walking away from the ones that don’t.
You don’t need to earn that permission; you already have it. You just need to claim it.
The most important permission you'll ever get doesn’t come from family, a coach, a boss, or a book.
It comes from you.
You’re the one who gets to decide what matters.
You’re the one who gets to rewrite the rules for yourself.
You’re the one who gets to choose what’s worth building—and what you’re done carrying.
So what’s one old rule you never actually chose… and what would it look like to leave it behind?