It’s not about power…it’s about balance. *edit*

“I’ve got a tight grip on reality but I can’t let go of what’s in front of me here…I know you’re leaving in the morning when you wake up…when you want some kind of proof it’s not a dream…oh, and I’m on my way to believing…”

A shift of perception, like an alternate world that was creeping up behind me for a long time, that I’ve only begun to recognize, acknowledge and accept. It’s always been about control. The unknowns in my life were enough to make me crazy, for as long as I could remember. I wanted to know. I wanted to realize, and work towards what I believed was real – but wasn’t. In that strict control over myself, I didn’t allow myself the simplicity to feel, to enjoy the moment and to take every breath, every day as it comes. I was rushing headlong towards an imagined future that was built on nothing more than pipe dreams. Futures don’t work like that – the foundations have to come before cement pouring. I’ve always been a risk-taker, really. But in moderation, with strict rigidity. I was able to control my feelings, my emotions – my levels of trust and intimacy with others. I would allow myself to let go enough. Enough for the current moment, but no further. I would dive off the diving board into a pool, not recognizing until it was far too late that it was empty, drained of water and I’d smack my head on the concrete at the bottom and wonder what went so horribly wrong. Really, despite the faults of both parties involved at any distinct time, the problem was me. I wasn’t able to let go enough – and even if I was able, I wasn’t willing. I had to get over myself, and that combined with the wrong person, and the wrong time was just a recipe for disaster. There have only been one or two people in my life I’ve ever fully trusted. And neither of them were in relationships. It was unconditional, despite our differences, despite our arguments and strange moments. Control – rigid, inflexible, self-control, the kind that I’ve had my whole life as a supposed shield to keep myself from getting hurt, first of all didn’t work. If you risk anything, you run the chance of getting hurt, and fighting to control yourself so methodically doesn’t prevent the hurt. But it does prevent a lot of the happiness, a lot of the enjoyment, a lot of the good things that come along as well. Secondly, control was not power. I’ve never had (nor wanted) power over others, I’ve never been the person who could have whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it and had others just fall in with my plans. In fact, I rarely had that. I admit (yay fourth step strikes again) that I’ve accidentally learned how to manipulate a few. I’ve learned how to say things and when to get a reaction I wanted – sort of. I don’t have, nor do I want to have that exact science down. In recovery, the first step is about learning and acknowledging that we are powerless over others, and that our lives had become unmanageable. But it went deeper than that for me, especially as I’m trying ton continue the program and actually WORK these steps and figure out what they mean for me. For me, I was the most unmanageable when the rigid control and the restrictions I placed on myself collided with the reality of my world. Giving up control of myself, in the way that I have been accustomed to was a hard thing to do. It wasn’t taken from me – I think if anyone had tried to force it, I would have fought tooth and nail to hold on even tighter. I said yesterday that it was liberating, and it is. But it was terrifying at first. Even though it still makes my stomach queasy at times to not have all the answers, and not know what’s going to happen in my life in many circumstances, I’m okay with not knowing. Things happen when they do. It is not the calm that defines character, but the courage behind the way we confront change, confront vulnerability, our own weaknesses and opportunities for growth. I don’t let my head get to that crazy “I want to know right now what the rest of my life looks like” place anymore. Not to say I don’t daydream…I do, especially lately – but I’ve always done that. I’ll always be a daydreamer with my head in the clouds, and that’s okay. But I’m not worried about it. Relinquishing that control into the care of what the program would call a “higher power” whatever that means to me now is a bit more difficult to swallow. Relinquishing it to another person will be a hurdle I have to cross when that time comes, but I’m pretty sure I can handle it. But Control to me means more than letting go of the not knowing. It means letting go of my feelings as well, and allowing myself to feel, without trying to restrict it, get a hold of it, control it. It means really, truly, letting go of myself, which is the one thing that I’ve kept the firmest grip on. Even typing it (and I said it out loud as I wrote it) was like a smack upside the head. To know it’s true? Mind-blowing. Truly. But you want to know the funny thing? In letting go of control – I’m not spiraling wildly off some random mountain side. I didn’t lose myself, I found myself. In giving in, and giving up and releasing all that pressure I put on myself and my thoughts and behaviors…I found peace. I seriously want to take myself out to dinner to celebrate or something. I want to feel, give that horse some free reign and see where it takes me.

When I was little, riding horses around and such, I used to do that all the time. It astounds me that I forgot about it until now. Out in an open field, where you know the surrounding area very well…taking your feet out of the stirrups, dropping the reigns across the pommel and letting the horse go where it wanted to. I used to do that as a teenager as well, in my summers in Alabama – just spread my arms out, move with the horse with a casual sway of the hips and lower back and just ride for the simple joy of riding. Kind of where I feel I’m at right now. Just riding because its freeing and liberating and being carried to wherever it is I’m supposed to be. I made it through the hurdles and the woods and the tangles and the everything else – learned (and in some cases still learning) the lessons I needed in order to get through and conquer difficulties. I see wide open spaces now, clouds and rainbows on the horizon and a whole world of open in front of me. In Buffy, Willow is afraid of letting go, afraid of what will happen if she does, of what she’ll become. And I understand the sentiment behind that deeper than I ever have now. But it doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing. Funny, Spike and I were talking about that yesterday. We talked about a lot yesterday. Again, let me say, it’s kind of fucking with my head how easy it is to talk to her about things that are…in retrospect, DEEPLY personal and intuitive. We talked about our pasts some. It’s strange – relationship wise our histories are mirror opposites of each other, but then again, as I think about it today – maybe not as different as it seemed at first. I think we protected ourselves in our own, very different ways, but we both had the same results. I think my way led to more pain than hers – being heartbroken, losing things I valued and wanted, whereas I guess she hadn’t been as open, or as invested before. But my way also gave me the ability to let go in small increments. It gave me the ability to know I COULD. And now that I know I can, and I’ve gone through the last 6 months of complete self-evaluation, growth, change and acceptance, I can let go of myself enough to just be open. I’m just wandering around in my head, learning to recognize and accept feelings, learning to speak for myself and stand up straight – be proud. Be something. Ironically, it’s kind of strange how the two of us are capable of balancing each other out. It’s something to think about. But, you know me, I think about everything anyway.

I’m looking forward to the meeting tonight, and I’m greeting step four with reluctant and slightly pissy but open arms. I’m kidding about the pissy. Kidding about the reluctant as well. Its something that’s hard to go through, but I want to. Step 5 – admitting my shortcomings and failures to another PERSON I think is going to be harder than admitting them to myself anyway. I’ve always been my own worst critic anyway. Spilling those guts to someone, even someone I trust (probably x from group, since we seem to have this strange recognition of each other) is going to be…challenging. Worthwhile, but challenging. I can do it.

*edit*
Also… In addition to my most favorite pet name ever, “heretic” I will also now be known as giles (a play on my last name, and the slightly stuffy librarian/watcher from buniverse) and “my lil swiss army knife”. She brought up a good point that I don’t have a pet name for her, unless you count “spike” which… Yeah, doesn’t count, although it is fitting, strangely. I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I just haven’t come up with anything suitable yet. I blame this on the simple reality that my brain is mush, it needs to be Thursday like rightfuckinnow, and I know exactly where my head is, and will probably stay and it makes concentrated thought a bit…inaccessible.