Permission
Squeezing juice out of a rainbow
When Debbie was a little girl she was trained to always ask for permission before she engaged in any activity that was not routine. If she wanted to go outside and play in the yard she first had to ask permission. If she wanted to watch TV she first had to ask for permission to turn it on. If she wanted to wear her favorite special dress she first had to ask her mother for permission. If she wanted to have a friend over she first had to secure permission.
She lived in a very orderly house with a well defined hierarchy. Being the youngest one in the house Debbie’s position in the hierarchy was at the very bottom and it remained so until she left home for college. Actually, it remained so even after that, in fact in her mind she was always at the bottom of any hierarchy she found herself in even into her thirties. She never felt that she had permission to do any of the things she wanted to do.
Often there was no one around to grant her permission so she never started anything and therefore never accomplished anything. If she tried to do anything without permission from someone she was filled with guilt and that guilt not only felt awful but it sabotaged anything that she tried to do.
In her thirties, Debbie was depressed, unfulfilled, lonely, unsuccessful, and she felt oppressed.
