Permission

Sometimes, you just question things.

Lately, I've been wondering why I do the things that I do; pondering on what is truly important to me; figuring out what I allow to get in the way of those things.

I had dinner with my mom last night. Having been burned many times by my mother's inability to connect with me on an emotional level, I usually don't like to confide in her. But last night, I told her a little of what I've been hoping for. Basically, I told her what I wanted to be when I grow up.

She looked at me, with this odd look on her face...

...I think it was approval.

I forget sometimes how much my mother actually knows about me.

She said that it made sense, this little dream of mine. And she asked me questions that she had never asked of me before. It sounded like support. And although I am not looking for either approval or support from my mother (or anyone else) it is nice to finally have it.

I told her that it was weird, to admit these things to her. It is a rare moment when my mother is just my mom and I am just her daughter. Usually, it's an odd mix or reversal of those roles. We just had this odd understanding that I would end up doing whatever I wanted, and she'd just allow me to do what I needed to do because I would always return to fulfill my family obligations. But this time, it was different. This time, I asked permission to live my own life.

And after 20 years, she finally looked at me and told me that I could.