Give Yourself Permission to say What you Want (Within Reason)

 It was on a chocolate bar. A gourmet bar filled with chunks of almonds and dotted with morsels of toffee, but it was still, underneath it all, a chocolate bar. I bought it from the local Food Fare (ex-Harry's, for those of you who have lived in the west end long enough to remember). It was my treat for the day. In fact, as days of hectic parenting often go, it was to be both my treat and my lunch.

A friend had offered to babysit for a few hours that afternoon, and let me tell you, an offer like that is rarely turned down. I took advantage and headed out for a long (solitary!) walk. One of my first stops was the grocery store* to purchase my I-don't-have-to-share-this-with-a-two-year-old-treat. It was delicious.

But what drew me to the candy bar in the first place (other than the fact it was chocolate. Come on, people -- chocolate!) was the sentence printed on its cover. There it was, in all it's candy wrapper glory: give yourself permission to say what you want. 

You know that worn cliche about being hit by a ton of bricks? Well, in that equally worn, still-trying-to-sell-food-that's-expired grocery store, I was hit by a proverbial ton of bricks** (or expired cheese and yogurt. You take your pick). I knew that I had to buy that chocolate. 

I bought the chocolate. I walked my walk. I ate the chocolate. 

I generally do not like positivity messaging***, especially when it shows up on a silly chocolate bar (no messaging about diabetes on that chocolate bar, was there? Nooooo) or in my social media feed. I confess the tendency towards rolling my eyes at the seemingly mandatory cursive font and trademark background of water or mountains or insert-whatever-nature-scene-gets-you-hot-and-bothered-towards-positivity. But this was different. I knew in my soon-to-be-filled-with-chocolate gut that it was another example of the Divine / Creator / the Big Dude Large and in Charge reminding me: you have something to say, Little One. Say it. 

Risk.

(And I got to eat a chocolate bar out of the deal. What a nice Guy that God is).

 

*also fondly known as grumpy cashier-land. 

**not really. They don't actually sell bricks there.

*** I realize that this makes me sound like a grump. I'm not. Okay, I'm not most days. Alright! I'm not some days.****

**** Hi, my name is Natasha and I am a curmudgeon.