In Which I Stop Being Such A Pussy. Mostly. #NoNothingNovember

“Don’t you ever fucking lie to me again.”

She looked extremely pissed.  And as usual I completely underestimated her pissed-offedness, and snickered to myself.

That was the last straw.  She stormed out, slamming the door.  NoNothingNovember was becoming very interesting.

…..

I’ve been trying to define the last of my goals for #NoNothingNovember.  I’m a pretty logical guy, and I tend to get slightly obsessive about defining things very specifically.  But not asking for permission has been giving me a little grief.

I’ve been trying to find an example in my life where I could practice owning my authority.  I want to own my life completely.  I want to make the decisions that affect my life without requiring someone else’s authority.

My realisation is that the authority I give others is utterly under my control.

Well, sort of.

It’s under my control if I realise that I’m doing it.  Part of the problem is that giving authority is a hugely subconscious act, and one that has been ingrained from childhood.  I had an extremely authoritarian and dominating father, one who  commanded authority and demanded submission.  My siblings and I were scared lambs under his god-like rule.  I learned early on that to question authority led to pain, and lots of it.

Fortunately, my character is such that I continued to do it, despite the pain.  However that early conditioning ensured that I did so only under the right conditions, where the risk of confrontation, especially physical confrontation with men, was at a minimum.

The last two years of my self-work have been focussed almost exclusively on overcoming that early conditioning, and establishing my footing within the world of men.  Previously my standing had mostly been bluff, and that had worked for over ten years.  After faking it for so long, I have now made it.  My confidence is complete, and I know I belong.

Now, I’m just tidying up the edges.

Asking for permission is one of the last pieces in the puzzle.  I read Danger and Play’s article on audacity, and it struck a note with me.  Being audacious means being your own boss.  No-one else will tell you to be audacious.

And that brings me back to my wife, and my first trial of not asking for permission.

…..

I’ve been wanting to try testosterone boosters for a while now.  I’ve heard they are of little use, but I’m not going down the steroid path.  A friend had mentioned he was seeing some results from a booster, so I discarded my trepidation and bought a bottle.

Trepidation?

My wife vehemently dislikes t-boosters.  She is a nurse and likes supplements to be throughly tested.  She had the same issues when I went through a nootropics stage.  So I knew that if she found out, we would be having an argument, possibly a vicious one.

I’d ordered before I’d thought about entering #NNN, and so when the bottle came in the mail, I put it in my top drawer, and wondered how I was going to take the stuff morning and night without her finding out.

One afternoon she asked me, “What were those tablets you got in the mail the other day?”

Shit.  She HAD seen the package.

“Just some pre-workout pills.”  And that was that.

Enter #NoNothingNovember.  I started thinking about how much of a pussy I was being.  In my own house.  I was being ruled, not by my wife, but by my idea of her authority, and my fear of that.  I’d built up such a monumental gargoyle of authority in my subconscious that I’d lost sight of reality; that she is just another person in my life, with no authority over my actions.  I respect her opinions, but I do not have to follow them.  And in the end, they are just some fucking pills.

I am my own man.

…..

I pulled the pills out of my drawer and put them in the vitamin cupboard.

And waited.