Week 10, Day 4

A daily dose of the truth.

For what seems like my entire life, basically as far back as I can remember, I have felt a need to be in control of every aspect of my life. This started as a child with me continually trying to stop my family from fighting. I don't have much of a memory of growing up before the age of 10. It was around that time that my mom had brain surgery and then divorced my dad. At that point, it seems like everything fell apart and my job was to try and put everything together and keep it that way. I remember laying in bed trying to stay awake for hours with anxiety in the pit of my stomach, waiting for the next big fight to break out. I remember my house feeling like glass, just waiting to be dropped and shattered. I felt like I had no one and nothing to hold on to for support and comfort. My ears were constantly scanning every noise, every movement, trying to anticipate the movements of my family and what was going to happen. I started trying to be the clown, to get the attention, to make everyone look at me and ignore any problems that were really peaking around corners. I had learned how to control the World. Or, at least I thought I had. As long as I was on constant duty, I could keep everyone happy, I could keep everyone alive. Yes, alive. For years I literally felt that if I didn't keep everything from boiling over, someone was going to die. These lessons slowly molded me into thinking that I needed to be everywhere, all the time, and I needed to constantly be on watch or the World would fall apart.

Between the ages of 10 and 16 I doubt I slept for more then 5 hours a night at most. I would lay in bed and pray for fences of angels to come and protect every inch of the house, my family, and anything that could possibly break and cause a fall out. I moved out of my home town and to New York when I was 18, a couple weeks after graduating high school. I wanted to get away, from everything, everyone. I wanted to leave my family and no longer feel like I had to keep everyone safe. I took the lessons of control that I had gained and applied them to myself. 7 years later, I am controlling every part of my life to the point that I don't allow myself to breathe. 2 months ago, I decided I wanted to control myself more and I placed rules around myself, no smoking, no drinking, no sex. In placing myself in the situation that I have, I only realize now how much I need to not control myself so much.

When I began this journey I was at a place in my life where I was sleeping with a good amount of people, drinking more then a good amount and smoking just to smoke. When I decided to embark on this journey I knew that I was ready for some changes but what I thought I was ready for was to place more control on myself and to really try and get my life together. What I didn't realize that what I really needed was to allow myself more freedom then I already was. Although that sound contradicting, let me expand. I had become a slave to alcohol, sex, and smoking. Freedom doesn't mean allowing myself to have all the sex I want, all the cigarettes or weed, or all the alcohol, freedom means I have the choice to say no to them, that I am actually free from them. 2 weeks ago I came to the realization that I need to allow myself to be free, and why haven't I? I haven't because I have never experienced freedom and safety at the same time. I have never found freedom anywhere near safety and I don't equate the two as one. Now, the question that seems to be looming over my head is, what am I not free of? I feel like I am free of alcohol, I am free of smoking, I am free of sex (for the most part), but what am I not free of?

I am not free of control. I would like to find a strong sense of self-discipline within myself, but not feel like I have to control my every move. One place where I struggle immensely with control is with personal relationships. I have a hard time trusting that everything will be ok. I have a hard time not trying to push and run for the finish line. The finish line that really doesn't exist. There is no finish line for any form of relationship, so what is it that I think I'm running so desperately hard for? If there is no finish line, is there a course? If there is a course, what happens when the path changes? Is there a true point A to point B? I don't think there is logically, but emotionally I do try to keep everything always going the way I want it to. Can I find a sense of comfort in not trying to control the flow of personal relationships? Can I find the power and safety within myself to trust something outside of myself and just allow the World to unfold? Can I lose control enough to accept that happiness can happen without me trying to make it appear?

Can I have faith and find peace in something outside of myself? I don't have to be that scared little kid any more, I don't have to constantly be waiting for the World to come crashing down. Can I just allow myself to be?