The Permission Fallacy

Sunday morning, November 23rd. Watching someone explain for the third year running why they can't start that project yet—still need more skills, more credentials, more certainty they're "ready."

The Permission We Wait For

We're taught to wait for permission. As children, we ask to use the bathroom, to speak, to go outside. As students, we wait for teachers to call on us, for grades to validate our understanding, for degrees to certify our competence. As employees, we wait for job titles, promotions, approval from managers.

This training runs deep: Before you do the thing, get permission from someone who knows better.

So when we want to write, we wait for an MFA or a book deal. When we want to build something, we wait for the right job title or enough years of experience. When we want to teach, we wait for credentials. When we want to lead, we wait to be appointed.

The pattern is consistent: There's something we want to do. We know we could just start doing it. But we don't. We wait. We tell ourselves we need more preparation, more credentials, more validation. We're waiting for someone with authority to tell us we're allowed.

Thesis: The permission you're waiting for isn't coming because nobody has the authority to grant it. The only permission that matters is the permission you refuse to give yourself. You're not blocked by gatekeepers—you're blocked by internalized gatekeeping that lets you avoid the vulnerability of just doing the thing.

What Permission Theater Looks Like

The permission fallacy manifests in predictable ways:

The Credential Collector

"I can't write about this yet—I need to finish my degree first."

"I can't apply for that job—I don't have the required certification."

"I can't start a business—I need an MBA to understand how business works."

The credentials are safety. With them, you'll have permission. You'll be legitimate. You'll be protected from criticism—after all, you have the official stamp of approval.

But the credentials are also procrastination. By the time you finish collecting them, someone who just started doing the thing without permission already has three years of experience. The credential was never a prerequisite—it was an excuse to delay the vulnerability of beginning.

The Approval Seeker

"I'll start my blog once I know people will read it."

"I'll share my art once it's good enough that people will appreciate it."

"I'll launch once I have validation from experts that it's ready."

The approval would make it safe. If others validate your work before you put it out there, you're protected from rejection. You won't look foolish. You won't fail publicly.

But you're creating an impossible condition. Nobody can validate work that doesn't exist yet. You need to make the thing and share it to get feedback. You're waiting for permission that can only come after you've already done the thing you're waiting for permission to do.

The Readiness Postponer

"I'm not ready yet. I need to learn more first."

"Once I'm more experienced, then I'll be qualified."

"Just a little more preparation and then I'll start."

Readiness feels responsible. You don't want to do it badly. You want to be competent. You want to honor the thing by being prepared for it.

But readiness is a moving target. The more you learn, the more you realize you don't know. The "just a little more preparation" never ends because there's always more to learn. You're not getting ready—you're using preparation as excuse to avoid starting.

Why We Internalize Gatekeeping

The permission fallacy isn't laziness or cowardice. It's a sophisticated psychological protection:

It Protects Us From Vulnerability

Starting requires exposure. You make something. You share it. People might hate it. People might ignore it. You might fail publicly and prove you were never good enough.

Waiting for permission delays that vulnerability. As long as you don't have permission yet, you can't start. If you can't start, you can't fail. The potential remains intact.

The internalized gatekeeper protects you from rejection by preventing you from ever getting to the point where rejection is possible.

It Gives Us an External Locus of Control

If you need someone else's permission, your success is outside your control. You just need the right person to give you the green light. It's not your fault you haven't started—the gatekeepers haven't let you through yet.

This is psychologically easier than accepting agency. If success is up to you, then failure is your responsibility. If you need external permission, then not starting yet isn't your failure—it's just that you haven't gotten the permission yet.

The internalized gatekeeper lets you avoid responsibility for not doing the thing you want to do.

It Lets Us Avoid Discovering Our Limits

As long as you haven't started, your potential is unlimited. Maybe you could write a great novel. Maybe you could build a successful company. Maybe you could make meaningful art. The potential is beautiful and comfortable.

Starting means discovering what you can actually do. Maybe your writing is mediocre. Maybe your business idea doesn't work. Maybe your art isn't as good as you imagined.

The internalized gatekeeper protects your self-image by keeping you in the realm of potential rather than forcing you to confront actual capability.

The Sunday Truth

Here's what the permission fallacy gets wrong:

Nobody with authority to grant you permission is coming. The people who could "legitimize" you don't care. They're not thinking about you. They're not waiting to validate you. There's no panel of experts watching to see if you're ready. The permission you're waiting for doesn't exist.

The credentials don't protect you. Having an MFA doesn't make you immune to bad reviews. Having certifications doesn't guarantee success. The official stamp of approval doesn't shield you from vulnerability. You'll be just as exposed after you have the credentials as you are now.

You can just start. Right now. Without permission. Without credentials. Without approval. You can write without an MFA. You can build without a computer science degree. You can teach without a teaching certificate. You can lead without being appointed. The gatekeepers you're imagining are largely gone—but you've internalized them and are now enforcing their restrictions on yourself.

The people actually doing the thing didn't wait for permission. They started. They were bad at first. They got better through doing it. Some had credentials; most didn't. What distinguished them wasn't permission—it was deciding they didn't need it.

The only permission that matters is the permission you give yourself. And that's the hardest permission to grant because it removes all your psychological protection. You can't blame gatekeepers. You can't hide behind readiness. You can't protect your potential. You have to just do it and face whatever happens.

Here's what to actually do:

Recognize internalized gatekeeping. When you catch yourself saying "I can't do X yet because I need Y first," ask: Is Y actually required, or am I using it as excuse to delay starting?

Grant yourself permission. Not in a mystical "believe in yourself" way, but in a practical "I'm choosing to start despite not having external validation" way. You're not waiting for anyone else to tell you it's okay. You're deciding it's okay.

Start before you're ready. You'll never feel ready. Readiness is a feeling that comes after you start, not before. Do it badly at first. That's normal. Everyone who's good at something was bad at it first.

Accept that you'll be exposed. You're going to make something, share it, and people will judge it. Some will hate it. Some will ignore it. That vulnerability is the price of doing anything meaningful. The credentials won't protect you from it—they just delay it.

Stop collecting prerequisites. The degree, the certification, the perfect preparation—these are almost never actual requirements. They're sophisticated procrastination. The person who just started three years ago is ahead of you, regardless of credentials.

Realize that most gatekeepers are gone. You can publish without a publisher. You can teach without a school. You can build without a job title. The internet removed most formal gatekeepers. The ones that remain are optional. You've installed internal gatekeepers to replace the external ones that disappeared.

Most importantly: The vulnerability is the point. Starting without permission means being exposed. That exposure is uncomfortable. It's also the only way anything happens. The people doing the work you admire all faced that vulnerability. The difference is they started anyway.

The uncomfortable truth: We maintain the permission fallacy because it's easier than starting. It gives us a reason to stay safe. It protects our potential from confronting reality. It lets us avoid the discomfort of being seen before we're perfect.

But nobody is coming to grant you permission. Nobody with authority is watching to validate you. You're waiting for something that doesn't exist, enforcing restrictions nobody is actually enforcing, asking for approval nobody can grant.

The permission you need is the permission to be imperfect, to be vulnerable, to start without validation. That's the only permission that matters. And you're the only one who can grant it.

Stop waiting. Start. You don't need anyone's permission.

You never did.

The permission fallacy: You're waiting for someone to tell you it's okay to start. To give you credentials, approval, validation. But nobody with authority to grant permission is coming. Only permission that matters is permission you give yourself—and that's permission you're most reluctant to grant. Thesis: Permission you're waiting for isn't coming because nobody has authority to grant it. Only permission that matters is permission you refuse to give yourself. Not blocked by gatekeepers—blocked by internalized gatekeeping that lets you avoid vulnerability of just doing the thing. Permission theater patterns: credential collectors (need degree/certification first, credentials are safety and procrastination), approval seekers (waiting for validation before starting, creating impossible condition since nobody can validate work that doesn't exist yet), readiness postponers (need to learn more first, readiness is moving target that never arrives, using preparation as excuse to avoid starting). Why we internalize gatekeeping: protects us from vulnerability (starting requires exposure, waiting delays vulnerability, prevents rejection by preventing starting); gives us external locus of control (psychologically easier than accepting agency, avoid responsibility for not doing the thing); lets us avoid discovering our limits (keeps us in realm of potential rather than confronting actual capability, protects self-image). Nobody with authority to grant permission is coming. Credentials don't protect you from vulnerability. You can just start right now without permission, credentials, approval. People actually doing the thing didn't wait for permission—they started, were bad at first, got better through doing it. Only permission that matters is permission you give yourself—hardest to grant because removes all psychological protection. Recognize internalized gatekeeping. Grant yourself permission practically—choosing to start despite not having external validation. Start before you're ready because readiness comes after starting. Accept you'll be exposed—vulnerability is price of doing anything meaningful. Stop collecting prerequisites—sophisticated procrastination. Most gatekeepers are gone—you've installed internal gatekeepers to replace external ones that disappeared. Vulnerability is the point—discomfort of being seen before perfect is only way anything happens. We maintain permission fallacy because it's easier than starting, gives us reason to stay safe, protects potential from confronting reality. Nobody coming to grant permission. Waiting for something that doesn't exist, enforcing restrictions nobody actually enforcing, asking for approval nobody can grant. Permission you need is permission to be imperfect, vulnerable, to start without validation. You're the only one who can grant it. Stop waiting. Start. You don't need anyone's permission. You never did.