Just Because I Can

The other day I recalled that as a child, I rarely pushed the envelope. I was the “good child” who didn’t break the rules, was always on time, hated to get dirty and rarely sassed my parents. (I only dared to do that when I got older—those darn teenaged years.)

Although I have matured over the years, I thought about how much I relish being able to do certain things as a (more than) mature adult and don’t really need to ask anyone’s permission. I can have dessert before the entrée, let my hair go silver, spend hours just reading, indulge my research on a topic, and embrace my quirks wholeheartedly.

Many of these indulgences are around food; I’ve learned that I have choices about whether I have that second piece of chocolate cake (which will likely make me nauseous from the sugar overload), or not. I can decide how often I will walk in the mornings, and choose to reduce the total distance—just because I can. I can’t imagine stopping my bereavement calls; there’s something so rewarding about offering comfort without any expectations.

So, what is this ramble all about? I finally figured out that it’s about embracing the agency of an adult. Essentially, I can do anything I want, whenever I want, however I want, although I do want to be considerate about the impact on my husband. But he’s so easygoing that I feel completely free.

Free.

A number of factors contribute to my agency. I live in the United States of America, which puts few limits on actions I can take. I don’t have to monitor what I say for fear that I might be thrown in prison. I can criticize the government as often as I wish. I can even criticize Democrats, and even Republicans, if I’m so inclined.

Aside from food, money is another factor where I have agency. Having grown up in a lower-middle-class home, I’ve always been self-conscious about spending money. I remember how my mother continued to pinch pennies even though she and my dad were financially secure. And then the day came when she felt she could buy something that wasn’t on sale and wasn’t a necessity—and she reveled in her decision to do just that. And she bragged about it, since she was overcoming a limitation that only she had set. What freedom. That’s agency.

So I pay attention to how I spend money. In some ways, we are financially secure enough that the need for frugality is not an issue. But then, I think about how many Kindle books I’ve purchased recently, and still find myself justifying my purchasing them. Or we just bought a new car, and we knew we were losing its value the moment we drove it off the dealer’s lot. It would have been much more “practical” for us to buy a low-mileage, used car. But we chose not to. And my husband is thrilled; he’s buried himself in the manual and brags about all the things the car can do. The car was his choice.

That’s agency.

I want to celebrate my agency at this time in my life. Right now, I have some annoying health issues that have come up that I could try to ignore, but they affect my quality of life. So, I don’t have a choice about experiencing them. But I do have a choice about remedying them.

And I will. That’s agency.