to break free from this hell resulted in years of arguing with God and emotionally exhaustive debates with myself and anyone else who would listen. There were periods in my life where I indulged in elaborate pity parties. There were also times when playing the role of the martyr was preferable to engaging in another wrestling match with life. Without a doubt, I’ve done my share of whining, complaining, blaming, and excuse-making.
Getting Fed Up
One day, I got sick and tired of being sick and tired. That’s when God began to prepare me for the truly conscious journey of giving myself permission. When I reflect on what triggered my turning point, I have to consider a series of questions: Was it just one thing, or a compilation of disappointments, failures, betrayals, and habitual behaviors that yielded the same drama, hurt and pain? Was it the year and a half I spent in counseling? Maybe it happened when I looked back over my life and realized that my grandmother, my mother, my sisters and I embodied three generations of emotionally broken people. Whatever the trigger, the coup de grace came on a cold winter night in January when I found myself on a dark street in my car trying to figure out how I could commit suicide and still leave my children with some kind of dignity.
While I won’t go into great detail, I will share with you the essence of the event. But let’s just say I journeyed through several layers of consciousness in one night. I don’t think Ebenezer Scrooge, from the story A Christmas Carol, and his ghostly visitations had anything on me. My journey started with a psychological sense of being in the depths of hell, and ended with the ultimate, conscious commitment to always maintain a higher level of self-awareness.
At the time, I had been married for six months to a pastor of a church who was physically, spiritually, and emotionally abusive. I’ll tell you a little more about this in the next chapter. But the events that led to this decisive moment had sent me spiraling to a very dark place. On this particular day I had not seen my husband for two days. That evening, I received a phone call from a man who was the husband of one of the members of the church. He called to tell me that his wife had changed the locks on their home and that the pastor, my husband, was now living with his wife.
Numb from this insane news, I tried to wrap my thoughts around what I had been told. After awhile I called my husband and in the most uncaring and nonchalant voice, he confirmed what the woman’s husband had said. The “good” pastor went on to tell me that God had revealed to him that I was there to destroy him and that the other woman was the one who would uplift him and his ministry.
By this time, I had two children — a daughter and a son. Because of my husband’s abuse, my son’s father had demanded custody of him. My daughter was attending college in another state. So there I was living in this small, roach-infested house my husband owned before we were married. His five children lived with us. He had not taken them to live with him; he left them behind with me.
There was absolutely no food in the house, utility shut off notices were on the counter, the needle on the gas gauge of my car was on the mark before empty, and I had five dollars to my name. Trust me, how I let myself get to this level is another book in itself. Realizing the situation I was in, I began tumbling fast off an emotional cliff, and all I could think about was suicide. In a desperate attempt for help, I called a spiritual counselor. It was nine o’clock at night, and I pleaded with her to see me. She agreed.
I drove to her house as fast as I could. When I arrived, I found myself in a dark cul-de-sac. There were no lights on at her house. After knocking on the door several times I went back to my car. I decided to wait, thinking that she might have left for a quick run to the store or something. My thoughts of suicide intensified as I shivered in the cold winter night. I was trying to preserve the little gas I had in my car by turning it on and off as needed for heat.
As I sat in the car, I felt a lot like Job in the Bible, who, after he was struck with sickness and lost everything he had, began to loathe his very existence and wish for death. My somber, desperate demand to God was much like what Job said in the Biblical book that was named for him: “God if this is the course of my life, I would rather die than to live!” (Job 10:11)
God’s response to my demand was surprising, to say the least. “There are forces that are working to destroy you,” I heard Him say. “But I have you in the palm of my hand and I see you. I will let go, if that’s what you really want.” That sobering statement shook me from my emotional stupor and made me realize that I had to make a choice. But instead, I challenged God further.
Like Jacob in Genesis 32:26, I began to wrestle with God about my desires for spiritual, mental and emotional healing, freedom, and authenticity. I demanded that my life be changed and that I be given a new name and a new sense of being. Three hours later, I emerged, triumphant, like the Psalmist David, declaring, “I will not die! I will live!” (Psalms 118:17).
All of this took place on that dark and devastating winter night in my car. The counselor never returned home that evening. One week later, I found out why she never showed. Just ten minutes after she had agreed to see me, she received a phone call that her son had been shot. He later died. The counselor’s tragedy prevented her from seeing me that night, yet it has allowed me to reflect many times on a very real fact: Often times it’s just between me and God, but I keep trying to include everyone else. We are so conditioned to look outside ourselves that we have become extremely reliant on external elements for answers or resolve. But many times it’s not for others to intervene — it’s between you and your God.
Throughout my own transformational journey, I’ve often challenged the notion of giving myself permission. Knowing my own torments, I wondered if it was even possible to manage the uncertainty, or hush the internal screams of self-doubt and fear. I’ve often wondered if it would really be possible to overcome my apprehension toward success and not pay another ransom to my self-saboteur. My response to these questions was, “Yes it is possible!”
Limitless Possibilities
The greatest wealth we have as individuals comes from living a life without limitations. “But Pennie,” you might say, “life is filled with limitations. We simply are incapable of doing everything!” You are partially correct. But let me clearly explain what I mean.
Over the span of our lives, we have learned a host of inhibitions that have caused us to betray our own purpose and quality of life. The price tag for this self-betrayal has been the unhealthy need for external validation and reassurance. In other words, the reassurance we desire from others is permission. But why do we need their permission to live our lives?
The truth is, we don’t. We have programmed ourselves to believe that we do. Many of us long for accolades and acceptance from our peers, family members, colleagues, and even our children. It makes us feel good and gives us great pride in ourselves and our accomplishments.
It stems from our childhood, when we smiled from ear to ear after receiving a compliment from our parents, grandparents, and teachers. Their words encouraged us, motivated us, and made us want more. Some of us didn’t get enough positive reinforcement growing up. Some of us did. In the scheme of things, all these things matter. I don’t know a single person who doesn’t thrive on compliments, even those who may never admit its necessity or benefit in their lives.
Think about this for a moment. Can you recall a time when you made a decision about something and then got someone else’s feedback BEFORE acting on it? I know I have. In these cases, we’re sometimes — though not always — subconsciously seeking permission from others. We want their reassurance to move forward.
Getting advice before making a decision is valuable, wise, and recommended. The Bible says, “Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed” (Proverbs 15:22). So obtaining counsel is a good thing. After we have gathered the perspectives and recommendations of others however, it is ultimately we who must decide to move forward, postpone, or abandon the idea altogether.
The path towards self-permission demands that we trust ourselves and our judgment. Sometimes there is no right or wrong answer. Life is a learning curve. Not only must we learn to trust ourselves, but we must also learn to accept the responsibility of the outcome of our decisions.