MriyaRun Resource Cards: How Inner Permissions Help Us Come Back to Ourselves

Some phrases sound almost too simple: “I have a right,” “I can choose myself,” “I allow myself to live my happy life”. At first glance, they look gentle, maybe even obvious. But when a person sits with them honestly, without pretending to be fully enlightened before dinner, something interesting happens: the simplest permissions often reveal the deepest inner tension.

MriyaRun has created two resource card decks that explore this theme from different angles. The deck “Я маю право” / “I Have a Right” focuses on fundamental inner rights: to exist, to want, to feel, to have boundaries, to take up space, to stop apologizing for being present. The deck “Я живу своє щасливе життя” / “I Live My Happy Life” moves further: from the right to be oneself toward daily choices, joy, rest, visibility, closeness, movement, and soft personal strength.

Both decks are built around a permission and a question. The permission names an inner right. The question prevents that right from remaining just a beautiful sentence.

“I Have a Right” is the foundation deck. It asks: do I have the inner right to be here? Can I want something? Can I not know immediately? Can I have needs, boundaries, a body, a voice, a separate life? This deck is especially useful where a person has lived for too long under rules like “be convenient,” “do not ask too much,” “others have it harder,” “be good,” or “do not take up space”.

“I Live My Happy Life” is the movement deck. It helps a person move from permission into embodiment: how do I want to live, what do I choose today, where do I need rest, where do I want to be seen, where do I say no, where do I try something new, and where do I finally leave an old script that has been gathering emotional dust for years?

Many inner prohibitions do not look like prohibitions. They disguise themselves as politeness, responsibility, modesty, care for others, or “this is just how things are”. A person can live for years with an internal rule: “My needs are not that important”. From the outside, everything may look fine: tasks are done, people are supported, messages are answered. Inside, however, there may be a tired part quietly asking, “Could I also be on the list of people worth caring for?”

For example, a woman draws a card that says, “My needs have the right to exist”. This does not mean she must immediately cancel her life and move to the mountains to have meaningful conversations with clouds. Though clouds, admittedly, sometimes listen better than people. The card asks a more precise question: which need do I most often postpone?

This is how a resource card works. It does not pressure or command. It creates a pause. And in that pause, an automatic reaction can become a choice.

For me, these decks are about a very simple yet difficult thing in life: having permission is important. But it is even more important to understand where this permission is missing. Where the barrier stands. Where the trigger is activated. Where the reaction stalls, stops, throws you back, and prevents a person from moving into action, intimacy, joy, visibility, or peace. We often think that the problem lies in the current situation. Not answering on time, speaking harshly, hesitating before a decision, being afraid to declare oneself, being unable to rest without guilt But the current situation often simply presses an old button. And the button itself appeared much earlier: in childhood, in family rules, in how we were taught to be "good," "convenient," "strong," "not too loud," "not too sensitive," "not too much ourselves". We will never fully reach the majority of these original sources. We cannot find all the moments where a child first decided: "my needs are unnecessary," "I must be silent," "love must be earned," "rest is permitted only after exhaustion". Some of these prohibitions are not our personal fault and not even always our personal history. They are a legacy: family, cultural, gender-based. An invisible manual on "how to be," which no one signed, but everyone somehow tries to follow[. This is exactly why the cards are important. They do not dig into the past for the sake of the past. They help us see the current mechanism: where I shrink, where I freeze, where I get angry, where I disappear, where I rescue, where I agree, even though inside I have said no for a long time. And when this is seen, a choice appears. Not perfect, not always easy, but alive. And a living choice is already the beginning of freedom.

When I was working on the “I Have a Right” deck, it was important to me that women didn't just look at beautiful pictures. I wanted them to recognize themselves. Not as an ideal heroine without wrinkles, doubts, and difficult days, but as a real living woman who holds light, exhaustion, tenderness, strength, shame, desires, boundaries, dreams, and those parts that have waited so long to finally be seen. In these images, I wanted to reveal a magical, invisible world that often remains inside. A world where feelings take shape, boundaries can shine with gold, pain can transform into a flower, and silence can be not an emptiness, but a safe space. A metaphorical card should work like a door: first, you see an image, and then suddenly you realize—this is not just a picture, this is something about me. It is important to me that a woman, looking at these cards, does not think: "I must be this beautiful". On the contrary. I want her to feel: "I already exist. I can be imperfect and still be worthy of love, respect, space, and choice" This is the magic of the deck for me: not to embellish reality, but to help one see the true beauty of living experience within oneself.

Imagine Anna. She opens the deck in the evening after a day that included work, messages, family logistics, grocery shopping, and the eternal mystery of why one kitchen spoon has migrated to the bathroom. She draws a card: “I have a right not to know immediately what I need”.

Her first reaction is: “Thank you, card. Very funny. I already know that I do not know anything”. But then something quieter appears. Anna realizes that she does not simply lack clarity. She does not allow herself to lack clarity. She expects herself to know instantly how to be a good mother, a strong professional, a calm partner, an organized adult, a healthy eater, and a person with a beautiful planner and stable nervous system. Preferably by Monday.

The card does not transform her life in five minutes. It simply helps her write one honest sentence: “Today I do not need to know everything. I need twenty minutes of silence”. That is not dramatic. There is no orchestra. But it is real. And sometimes real is exactly where healing begins.

One powerful format is to draw one card from “I Have a Right” and then one card from “I Live My Happy Life”. The first card shows which inner right needs attention. The second shows how that right can become action.

For example, the first card says, “I have a right to my boundaries”. The second says, “I allow myself to say no”. Together, they create a practical path: not just “boundaries are important,” but “where exactly do I need to stop explaining myself in ten emotional paragraphs and simply say no?”

Another example: “My life matters” plus “I allow myself to be visible”. This is about leaving the inner invisibility mode. It does not mean a person must immediately start a podcast, launch a course, and buy studio lights. Sometimes the first step is much smaller: sharing an opinion in a meeting, showing one’s work, naming a price, speaking without shrinking.

For personal use, the “card of the day” format works well. Draw one card in the morning or evening and ask: where is this true for me today? Do not turn the card into a horoscope. If you draw a card about rest, it does not mean the entire day is officially canceled. But it might mean your body has been asking for a pause for three days while you keep answering with coffee and the facial expression of someone who says, “Just a little more”.

Another useful format is a ten-minute writing practice. Write down the permission and complete three sentences: “When I read this, I feel...”, “It is difficult for me to allow this because...”, and “One small step today could be...”. The goal is not to write beautifully. The goal is to write honestly. Inner truth rarely arrives as polished marketing copy.

In individual consultation, the cards can gently open a topic without forcing it. A person may find it hard to say directly, “I am afraid to be myself”. But it may be easier to say, “This card reminds me of how much I adapt to others”. The image and text create a safe distance.

In group work, the decks can support introductions, closing circles, thematic exercises, or reflection around boundaries, needs, self-worth, and choice. The main rule is simple: the person defines the meaning of their card. A facilitator may ask questions, but should not announce an interpretation as truth. Otherwise it stops being metaphorical work and becomes a dramatic TV show titled “We Have Understood Everything About You in Thirty Seconds”.

“I Have a Right” is especially useful when there is guilt, shame, inner prohibition, difficulty with boundaries, needs, the body, self-worth, separation from family expectations, or inherited social and gender roles.

“I Live My Happy Life” is especially useful when a person is ready to look at choice, action, joy, visibility, rhythm, rest, and the question: “How do I want to live now?”

Together, the two decks create a fuller path: from right to action, from permission to a real small step. A person does not always need a dramatic life change. Sometimes the beginning is simply to stop betraying oneself in one small place. And then another.

MriyaRun resource cards do not promise a magical transformation in one evening. That is a good thing. Honest tools do not pretend to be magic wands. They help us see ourselves more clearly, name the inner prohibition, return a permission, and take a small step without violence toward ourselves.