I reel it in, once again, to a safe and comfortable distance. Last time I let it get too far I found myself in a ball on the floor nauseated from the anxiety as it coursed through me. Since that moment when I took pills to ease the pain, I decided the closer I held it the better. The tighter it was the freer I’d feel. The more I could manage.
What a flawed idea.
Life on a short leash is more a pile of chains than a taste of freedom. The self-tightened cuffs clasping your wrists leave marks that look more like scars than temporary discomfort.
Yet, I do it daily. I painstakingly think through each decision and every possible outcome, planning for each as if I could control the uncontrollable. Sure I’ve been known to leap, but my jump is calculated, and my landing predictable.
And, it’s sickening.
The tighter I grasp my tomorrows the more I suck them of possibility.
And, I’m getting pretty good at that.
It’s very easy for my mind to think I have it figured out.
Ok, if I slip doing A, I can divert to B, and if that fails, C will definitely pull-through.
But, not always. And those are the moments I find myself nauseated, frustrated, and so misguided . . . all because I’m so determined to lead the way. When I was never meant to.
As of late, God has been painfully reminding me of my intense love affair with control. But the disease itself is not a new one to me. We’ve been acquainted and all too consumed with each other for years, me and control.
I spent my morning having lunch with a friend that unknowingly jolted me back into the realization that my tight grip and calculated risks are useless. All that really matters is how I react when life actually happens. [You know the real kind, where it’s completely out of our control.] Because no matter how hard I counter intuitively plan for it, it will happen. And the result is typically one that leaves me blindsided.
In those moments, I catch myself putting my hands deep into my pockets, digging for answers and coming up short changed. I’m forced to take deep breaths and regroup.
After several gulps, I acknowledge inside that my attempts at controlling outcomes are futile. I can never perfectly plan for what’s coming, and the more I try the more I’m losing grip of life’s true beauty.
I’ve got to let go. The cuffs, the leash, the expectations, the disappointments are all too much, and will never lead to the outcome I so deeply desire—freedom.
I watched the words trickle from my friends’ mouth and I stopped panicking for a moment to breath in deeply, to absorb each and every truth she so peacefully emitted. I inhaled them and will bury them inside for the next time I seem to be suffocating myself from this gift I’ve been given . . . called life.
Because Micah’s spoken words are much prettier than mine: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ZGPxEImcfc