Why letting ourselves simply be is more radical than we think

It is okay. Truly okay.

I am allowed to be tired without apologizing. To feel sadness without immediately fixing it. To feel anger without justifying it. To feel fear without hiding it. To be restless without shame. To pause without explanation. To withdraw without guilt. To say no, simply because it is needed.

I am allowed to need silence. To need space. To need time that is not filled with obligation, expectation, or performance.

I am allowed to change my mind. To stop attending, to leave, to walk away — not because something is wrong, but because I know when enough is enough. Because my energy, my presence, my attention are finite and sacred.

I am allowed to care for others, and still protect my own boundaries. To be compassionate without losing myself. To give without giving up my center.

I am allowed to enjoy small moments quietly. To laugh when it is private. To cry when it is unseen. To exist fully without explanation. To live according to my own rhythm, not the one imposed by others.

I am allowed to fail. To make mistakes. To not understand. To not have the right answers. To stumble, to pause, to struggle — and still be whole.

I am allowed to be contradictory. To feel love and irritation at the same time. To be tender and strong, soft and firm, quiet and expressive. To be human in all its complexity.

Each permission is simple. Yet simple things are often revolutionary. Because society teaches us to smooth, to perform, to regulate, to appear “okay” even when we are not. And in that smoothing, something human gets hidden.

So these permissions are radical in their honesty. In their refusal to conform. In their insistence that life does not require constant justification or performance.

I am allowed. And by allowing, I reclaim space, clarity, and presence. I am allowed — and so is anyone who reads these words.