Fiendish Jones and the Need for Permission

Earlier this morning I was just feeding my Frenchie Rufus and doing some cleaning and rearranging in the kitchen when (to me) a profound and probably obvious thought occurred to me. 

I've been operating in my new apartment space with a sort of unconscious need for permission from some nebulous "persona" out there. Even something as simple as where I'm putting the toaster on the countertop became a battle for permission. What if "someone" doesn't like it there? What if they don't approve of my choice of toaster color? What if they criticize my choices?! And on and on it went.

In the moment where I realized fully what I was doing to myself a name came to me as if someone opened my head and plopped it right into my brain. Fiendish Jones. He's basically Snidely Whiplash (for those of you not old enough to remember the cartoon Dudley Do-Right of the Mounties Snidely was Dudley's arch nemesis.) He's the voice that lurks just out of range of my consciousness that criticizes every decision I make. He has a top hat and cape and a long mustache that he twirls as he laughs manically at mentally cornering me yet again. I've constantly found myself asking his permission for just about everything I do.

I didn't even realize until this morning I was operating under this kind of imaginary criticism. Now that I know this, now that I've moved from ignorance to knowledge, from knowing to embracing, I understand that I don't need to seek or be that needy for permission about anything.

What a revelation.

The Oliver Syndrome

In the novel "Oliver Twist" and the 1968 movie musical version there is a scene at the evening meal. Oliver, with bowl and spoon in hand, approaches the master of the workhouse and timidly asks for more. That scene has been gnawing at the back of my mind for a while now, and I've finally figured out why. It's what I've taken to calling The Oliver Syndrome.

When we're so entangled in people pleasing and worrying what others think of us, we're like Oliver. Ashamed of asking for what we want, frightened of upsetting others. We're timid and afraid to live fully for fear of what others will think or how they will silently judge us.

Had Oliver not asked for more, he would've gone hungry. If we don't give ourselves permission to be, and stop the constant fret over what we think others will think, we starve ourselves of a full life.