It is beyond me. The world, I mean. People, places, and things are all beyond my control. No matter what I say or do, or no matter how I try, I have to learn that this is a fact.
Even if it pains me, even if this breaks my heart, and even if I hate what takes place, I have to remember that sometimes, this is all beyond me.
I think about the competition of self. I think about the battles which take place in the mind.
I think about the times when I rehearsed what I would say and how different it was when the moment of truth was at hand.
And sure, I’ve rehearsed in front of mirrors before.
I’ve practiced my speech, many times.
Haven’t we all?
I think about the times when I swore, I’d stick up for myself or I swore how I would walk away, and then I think about how I grew weak in the knees or how I realized that no, I couldn’t walk away and no, I didn’t want to walk away.
I just wanted to create a change. But in my neglect to monitor my thinking, I gave in to the the little kid in my head and threw tantrums because i didn’t get my way.
I’ve said things that I didn’t mean.
I did things that I didn’t mean.
But the outcome was still the outcome, which then became unchangeable, or otherwise sabotaged and delf-destructive.
I think about the times when I wanted to run far away or how I’d try to get away from myself.
How often have you done this?
I think about how I tried and then, of course, I think about the time I was told, “no matter where you go, there you are.”
This is very true.
There is no escaping us or who we are. There’s no way to unzip this spacesuit of ours and step outside. For me, there is no way to hide my feelings; and whether I find myself in contempt because I don’t like what I see, or whether I allow myself to throw a tantrum, or whether I am pissed, outraged, resentful, or angry at either myself or the world around me or the situation at hand, and whether I am thrilled, unhappy, good, bad or otherwise, the bottom line is life is still going to happen.
Time still moves.
I can dig that . . .
I think about the morning after. This was back on a cold day in December.
The Old Man passed away. I can remember how my Mother stood outside on the steps in the front of my childhood home.
Nothing was ever going to be the same again.
I can remember when Mom told me what she was thinking.
She told me how she couldn’t understand.
She told me, “I just lost the love of my life and nothing stopped.”
“Not once.”
The world just kept going.
I remember there was a bakery truck driving down the street. The hour was early, but the sun had already taken its place in the sky.
Dawn had passed and the day was about to pick up speed.
Yet, my Mother was devastated.
And she was right.
Someone died. This wasn’t some old stranger.
No, this was someone loved and valued.
Someone important to us was gone, and at the same time, the clocks never stopped. The bread truck still had to rush down the street to make deliveries. The traffic lights still went from green to yellow, and then to red.
The television went on and off. Nothing changed for the rest of the world.
Nothing stopped or even gave us a moment of silence.
Nope.
Nothing . . .
Life is uncontrollable.
Then again, most things are uncontrollable.
I can’t stop the rain. I can’t stop the storms.
I can’t fix what is broken beyond repair and I can’t change the past.
Better yet, I can’t change people, places, and things from being who or what they are.
In fact –
the harder I try or the more I try to control the uncontrollable, the more out of control I become. The more I try to control things beyond my reach can lead me to create more chaos.
Then what?
Ever fall in slow motion?
You know you’re falling, but there’s nothing you can do but wait to hit the ground . . .
And you freak out in the milliseconds of awareness.
Life can be this way.
You know you’re falling.
But there’s nothing you can do.
Or wait –
when I talk to you about emotional quicksand, it’s like, you know that you’re drowning—and you try to stay up. You dig?
You try to keep your head from going under. But the harder you try, the faster you sink, and the faster you sink the more your anxiety picks up, like crazy. So you flail and you try and move and you struggle, but in the end, all this does is lead you to drown in the thin air of your own emotional quicksand.
People, places, and things . . .
I cannot fix the days before this one.
I can learn from them. I can adjust and correct my position.
I can make changes and advance or improve.
This is allowed . . .
I can’t hold what needs to be let go. I can’t stop the sands of time, and I can’t stop the clock from turning.
All I can do now is live my best life.
That’s it.
That’s all.
All I can do is put in the effort and hope the outcomes will come my way.
At the same time, I understand when people go through crisis. I know how it is to find that my own chaos has taken over and their goes thoughts, and how they betray me.
I understand what heartache and heartbreak feels like and I understand when love is lost or when someone you love, slips away, disappears, or changes their mind, and suddenly, I am let go or discarded.
There is nothing I can do about this.
I can’t stop the train from moving down the tracks.
By the way . . .
This is what trains do.
I can’t stop my enemies from snarling or growling at me and I can’t stop the gossips from chewing the fat from the meat of my flesh because, after all, this is what they do too—as in, for a living.
I have to be mindful. I have to stop the thought machine before my thoughts turn against me —and keep me sick.
I have to find a focal point, or something to inspire me, or something to motivate me, and then with all that I have, I have to replace unhelpful thoughts with beneficial actions.
I have to remember to think myself well instead of think myself sick.
Otherwise . . .
I drown in the thin air of my imaginary quicksand.
I’ve done this before. Recently, in fact.
What does this do?
This causes me to project my fears and leads me to arguments with the person I love and the one who owns my heart or the one who makes me smile.
I can betray as easily as I imagine that I am betrayed.
In fact, I can do this even easier, and then what?
Be mindful of your thoughts.
They can betray you worse than an enemy would.
Then again, most people are their own worst enemy.
Aren’t they?
I tell you . . .
There has be a course on this. That is, if there isn’t one already.
There needs to be a course called how to be your own best friend.
And I’ll tell you right now.
Let me know if you find a class like this.
Sign me up too.
I’d love to learn how to be better.
I want to do this with all of my heart.
And not just for you, but for me too.
You dig?
The Written Addiction 