Core Value #1: Autonomy

Instead of intimidating myself into continued procrastination—I’m choosing to just start writing.

I was doing overwrought mental gymnastics trying to thematically group my top five values into just a couple of longer posts—something cohesive, reflective, meaningful. I imagined going back through time with each value (honesty, spirituality, meaningful work, friendship, and autonomy), tracing how my understanding has evolved, where I’ve landed now, and how each one fits into my growth toward self-actualization over this next year and next decade.

But holy cow. Tracing that arc for just one value could be a book. Or a thesis. Or a full length docudrama. Trying to compress the full evolution of five core values into a couple blog posts over a week’s time is wildly ambitious. Certainly paralyzing. And I’m now ready to admit—not the right idea.

So we’re tacking the other way. Going with the wind, folks.

Instead of forcing a nonstarter plan, we’re choosing the straight and simple, baby: Write about one value at a time. One post per value. Short. Or ramble-y. Or whatever it needs to be. I’m officially in forgiveness mode, and I hope you’ll come along with me.

To minimize overthinking, we’re going in alphabetical order.

Which means autonomy is up first.

Autonomy: placing importance on freedom, independence, and individual discretion.

I think autonomy matters so much to me now because it’s the opposite of people-pleasing.

Back then, before.

Pleasing others in order to feel loved, safe, and worthwhile has been my default for as long as I can remember. As a middle child, I was the “peacemaker.” The “easy one.” The “golden child.” Or whatever middle-sibling cliché you prefer. That role, combined with an evangelical Christian upbringing, simmered together over time in my particular brain and produced… a highly rigid, deeply anxious, extremely codependent people-pleaser.

I needed everyone around me to be okay before I could be okay.

That included whoever was physically or relationally near me in any given situation and whoever held authority in my life—parents, teachers, coaches, youth leaders, pastors, and especially God. 

Which is… a lot of information input for one kid. Trying to sift through that many expectations in search of a Self was exhausting and endless. No wonder my childhood feels so foggy to me now. 

As I got older, I learned about boundaries, identity, and being my own person. My sense of self started stirring. But still, I was caught like a fish in a codependence web. Conservative culture, the church, my dating relationship/marriage, and all the roles I had created for myself wrapped tight around me. And now, slowly waking up within it all, I could feel the constriction. I could feel a me underneath the layers of tradition, obligation, and expectations—questioning, frustrated, pushing back against it all.

Did I speak out my truth or cut myself free? No, of course not. All my default programming was still running (MS PeoplePlease 1988) and so I did my best to manage the trapped feeling in my chest and continue to perform well. For years. For so long, I chafed and withered inside my chosen roles while simultaneously working overtime to earn my worth through five-star reviews—especially from God and the people who claimed to represent Him.

Eventually, as with all things so pressurized, something had to give. And it was messy.

A full-on regime change took place in my psyche. 

For the first time, I realized with certainty that if God bothered to create me as a unique individual, He probably did so on purpose. With purpose. Which meant my Self actually mattered. My opinions. My desires. My expectations. My dreams.

I finally knew the truth—that my own estimation and weighing of my life (together with God, but just between us) mattered more than anyone else’s. 

The only thing I can truly own—fully and honestly—is how I choose to steward the Self I wake up to each day and the life we’re building together. Everything else I’d been trying to carry, trying to own—how people lived, how they felt about me, whether they encountered God, if they were okay—I can’t own that stuff. 

And I can’t let my roles or relationships own me either.

Now and today.

In my marriage today, autonomy is essential. I need to choose the roles I fill, the tasks I take on, the way I show up as a wife. We cooperate, work together, and we’re both free, independent, and ultimately make decisions according to our individual discretion. Talking a lot and being intentional allows us to do this in a way that keeps us close. 

In my daily work as a school counselor, autonomy means that while I collaborate, follow directives, and ground myself in ethical codes, I ultimately take responsibility for my decisions. I act in ways that feel right to me—and I own the outcomes. I need this in order to be sustainably invested in and connected to my work. 

In my friendships these days, autonomy allows me to show up fully as myself while letting my friends do the same. I’m grateful for whatever positives I gain from each friendship, without needing them to be anything they aren’t. And I’m more and more comfortable just being me, no pretending or stretching in ways that don’t feel right. We get to be whole people without fear of enmeshment or disappearing into one another. Our edges stay intact. 

As a woman, a citizen, a thinker, and a writer, I show up according to my own values, ideas, desires, and habits. I exercise my freedom, independence, and individuality. Personal discretion matters deeply to me—because, really, it’s the true expression of my Self. Which is what this whole project is about.

For me, autonomy means the opposite of people-pleasing. It means trusting the one thing that makes me truly unique—my Self, my soul—to guide me through this life. Instead of immediately looking for answers in the Bible, the internet, or my friends, the first place I look is inward.

I check my gut.
My body.
My heart.

I test things out. See how they feel. Then I decide.

I don’t think I’ll ever willingly put myself in a situation that requires me to sacrifice my autonomy again.

Going forward, exercising autonomy will continue to shape clearer, more solid expressions of my Self in my story. As I lean into it as a core value, I’ll keep getting better at trusting my own voice—both in the day-to-day choices and at the bigger crossroads decisions.

And I think each time I do, my life will change to look a little more like me.