Here's Your Permission Slip

Why we need self-permission, especially in midlife

Somewhere between learning to parallel park and figuring out how to mute ourselves on Zoom, we were taught an unspoken rule: before we try anything new (or quit something old), someone else must grant us permission. As little kids, that made sense—May I go to the bathroom? Can I have another cookie? But the habit stuck. We look to bosses, partners, parents, social media comment sections—anyone—for a thumbs-up before we change careers, start lifting heavier, dye our hair lilac, or finally say no to commitments that drain us.

Midlife magnifies this dynamic. Our roles multiply—parent, caregiver, teammate, boss, partner—and each one comes with its own expectations. Meanwhile, hormones fluctuate, bodies adapt, and society keeps turning up the pressure: “Age gracefully—but don’t you dare look like you’re aging.” It’s exhausting. The result? Many of us keep waiting for outside approval to make the shifts we know we need: gentler mornings, heavier dumbbells, deeper friendships, lighter mental loads.

That’s why I created the Permission Slip Exploration Sheet for my upcoming book.

What exactly is a Permission Slip?

Think of it as a one-page hall pass from the principal—only you are both the principal and the student. It’s a written declaration that says:

“I, [Your Name], grant myself full, unapologetic permission to __________, because __________.”

That blank space can hold anything your midlife heart is craving: time, rest, adventure, boundaries, heavier weights, a messy first draft, a brave conversation. The second blank turns the dial from wishful thinking to purposeful action—why does this matter? Research shows that naming our “why” cements commitment and reduces self-sabotage. (Plus, it quiets the peanut gallery in our heads that loves shouting Who do you think you are?)

My latest permission slip (feel free to borrow!)

I, Maria, grant myself permission to embrace recovery.

Because my body just powered through surgery, and healing deserves the same spotlight I usually shine on hustle.

This little statement is taped above my desk. Whenever the urge to “push through” bubbles up, I read it out loud—yes, the dogs look confused—and it resets my compass. 

Why writing it down works

1. Visibility beats willpower. A written note on your mirror outperforms a silent promise rattling around your head.

2. Language shapes behavior. When you shift from “I should” to “I give myself permission,” you flip the power dynamic—you’re no longer a rule-follower; you’re the rule-maker.

3. Midlife clarity demands reminders. Between hot-flash math (sweater on, sweater off, repeat) and the endless notification ping-pong, mental bandwidth is precious. Your slip becomes a single, clear cue amid the noise.

How to write your own Permission Slip

1. Grab something physical. Notebook, sticky note, fancy stationery—your choice. Handwriting recruits more brain real estate than typing, so aim for pen and paper if you can.

2. Identify the craving. Ask: Where am I waiting for approval? What feels heavy yet optional? What excites me but scares me a little?

3. Finish the sentence. “I, [Name], grant myself permission to ____, because ____.” Keep it tight—two lines max forces clarity.

4. Post it loud and proud. Bathroom mirror, fridge door, phone wallpaper, steering wheel—somewhere you’ll see it daily.

5. Repeat as needed. New season? New challenge? Write another. There’s no quota. Some weeks you’ll have one slip; other weeks you might wallpaper your office with them.

Midlife-specific ideas to spark you

• Permission to rest without earning it. Because recovery is training.

• Permission to learn salsa from TikTok teens. Because joy has no age limit.

• Permission to ask for help with aging parents, without guilt. Because carrying everything alone isn’t strength—it’s self-neglect.

• Permission to rewrite my career story, even if it confuses LinkedIn. Because purpose > résumé consistency.

Feel a zing of recognition? That’s your cue.

Make it a ritual

Whatever cadence you choose, consistency matters more than perfection. Miss a week? No shame; write one today. The very act of revisiting your permission,  of asking “What do I need now?”, is an act of radical self-care. I’ve even been thinking about laminating mine and using a dry-erase marker to update it when I need it (permission slip meets whiteboard—chef’s kiss).

Ready to share yours? I’m all ears

I would love to read your permission slips. If you’re comfortable, email me at [email protected].

Parting nudge

We’re experts at granting permission to children, coworkers, even strangers on the internet (“Yes, girl! Do the thing!”). Let’s redirect a fraction of that generosity inward. Write the slip. Post it where you’ll see it. Read it every day until the ink fades—and then write a fresh one.

Because the truth is, midlife isn’t a permission slip; it’s a permission season. The sooner we hand ourselves that hall pass, the sooner we can roam the halls of possibility

Now—what will you give yourself permission to do? I can’t wait to find out.