Out of Control, Into Myself.
I began to distance myself from her, this dark shadow who shrouded my light.
This enraged her, and she defiantly held her ground. After a lifetime of wholehearted and obedient service to her, I began to observe her. I questioned her role.
Who might I be without her? Without my control? This thought terrified me.
Who would I become without her watchful eye over me? Without the sting of every hurtful word ever thrown at me? Without others’ judgements of me in their bursts of rage? Without the most unworthy beliefs I held of myself?
What was lying beneath me that was so terrifying it made control feel like my friend? What was I holding onto that made control, in all her supremacy, feel safe?
What if I her let go? The one who told me what to do, the one who belittled me, shamed me, the one who constantly put me down. The one who put others down—people who I actually admired, who lived the way I longed to live, who expressed the freedom I longed to experience.
Why did I think I needed her?
She terrified me. She scared those around me when she dominated my being. When she was present within me, I became her: hard, judgmental, even ruthless at times.
She pushed friends away, she pushed fun away, she had zero time or respect for my creative spirit.
She shared none of my desires, she had no time for my softness, my compassion, my joy.
She ridiculed these aspects of me when they tried to come to the surface, so they painfully lay buried within.
So why was I choosing to live with her? Why was I allowing her run the show? Why was she holding my power? I had gained my power back in so many aspects of my life, but why not from her?
Well, because I believed her.
I believed her words, I believed her threats, I believed she was my power. I had no idea that it was I who held power over her!
I thought her bullying ways toward me were what led to my achievements, and most often they did. But these achievements were not my desires coming into fruition. They were hers.
I thought the things she said about me were true.
I thought without her I would become the worthless, lazy slob I believed myself to be.
I thought without her I’d amount to nothing in this life.
I thought I needed her to to get things done, to keep me in line, to bring me motivation, to see things through.
She controlled every part of me—my physicality, my emotional being, my conscious mind, my subconscious mind.
My body couldn’t heal itself from illness; it knew how to, but she constantly demanded how it must eat, move, work, and behave, so it had no freedom to do so.
My hands wanted to create, but she directed my energy to what she considered to be more “honorable” pursuits.
My soul wanted to dance, my energy longed to flow, but this inner freedom threatened her, so she shamed my every move.
But life this way was becoming more and more painful.
My desires were brewing deep within me, with more and more determination to emerge. They began to boldly challenged her.
Freedom was what I longed for—and was where I was heading—but she remained the anchor to whom I believed myself to be. It was time to liberate myself from the her depths.
I decided to face my biggest fears. I decided to fully question the ammunition she used against me. I fully owned who she had convinced me to be. I sat with the limiting beliefs she used to control me, and I immersed myself deeply into them.
I felt every ounce of pain they ever caused me. I sat with this pain until I asked my heart if who I was today accepted these beliefs as my truth.
The answer was no, loud and clear.
This realization forced me to grieve the love of the people who first threw these words at me. It forced me to give this shame back to the who it belonged to. It forced me to experience the guilt of adding to their pain, which forced me to realize this guilt was not mine to own either.
Anger, hurt, pain, relief, empowerment, and joy played a symphony within me.
I had finally let her go.
For the first time in my entire life, I was me, just me—no one else’s belief system, no one else’s harsh words and no one else’s shame billowing all around me.
I breathed myself in. It was both heartbreaking and euphoric.
I grieved the loss of the person I never got to be, while giving life to the “me” I had always wanted.
Asking ourselves, “Who do I fear I will be without my control? What is this control protecting me from?” offers us the underlying limiting beliefs that hold us back from who we truly are.
Answering this question from the depths of our heart and comforting the child within who believes this answer to be be true, while proving to ourselves with evidence from how we have lived our life so far that this belief about ourselves is not true nor ours to hold on to, sets us free.
Control’s reason for existence ceases to be.
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Author: Kerrie O’ Reilly
Image: “The Shadows We Follow” by Brooke Shaden
Editor: Callie Rushton
Copy Editor: Yoli Ramazzina
Social Editor: Yoli Ramazzina