In 27 years of clinical practice, the theme I have encountered most consistently in women — across all ages, all backgrounds, all presenting problems — is the struggle with permission.
Permission to want what they want. Permission to take up space. Permission to be difficult, or inconvenient, or less available than people expect. Permission to begin something new. Permission to fail. Permission to succeed.
Where it comes from
The reasons are well documented by this point. The socialisation of girls toward accommodation. The reward structures that reinforce self-effacement. The cultural narratives that make a woman's value contingent on her usefulness to others.
What is less often discussed is how persistent this pattern is, and how much it costs. Not just in terms of unlived ambitions — though those are real — but in terms of the day-to-day psychological load of constantly gauging whether one's desires are permissible.
The clinical and the personal
I have talked to patients about this for decades. And then I sat down to write a novel, and found myself applying exactly the same constraint to myself.
The voice that asked, again and again: who do you think you are?
You are a psychologist, not a writer. This will not be good enough. People will find out you are a fraud.
I recognised that voice immediately. I had heard it in my consulting room hundreds of times. Knowing where it came from did not make it quieter. But it did make it possible, eventually, to write past it.
A final thought
The novel I wrote — In the Name of the Mother — is, in part, about women and permission. About the things women do not allow themselves to want, and what happens when those unlived wants find another way out.
If that resonates with you, I would love you to read it.
Available at https://janehudsonbooks.com/