As stated in an earlier post, old habits die hard--control being a habit that is hard to quit.
A few nights ago, a group of friends and I gathered at one girl's home for a night of drinking, something in which I rarely partake. Alcohol has always terrified me. I view it as a means of losing control, both bodily, if one makes herself physically ill, and emotionally, if one loses inhibitions. I have always prided myself as being reserved and contained, and until this night, I never connected just how pandemic my needed for control was.
Since I rarely imbibe, I was inebriated within two drinks, and as such, my inhibitions completely disappeared. I danced like a lunatic, shouted, and belly-laughed, gesticulating wildly and freely. I was booty-shakin' to Usher, head-bangin' to Skid Row, playin' air guitar, and more. I was the center attraction, all eyes and laughs on me, but the next morning I was completely mortified by my undignified behavior. How could I act so uncontrollably?
This wild side of myself is something I rarely share, in part because it terrifies me. Having always been self-conscious, I was never sure if people were laughing with me or at me. Years of toxic relationships have taught me not to trust others, and I often I find myself waiting for a relationship to sour, ending with me being hurt, used, or mocked. It is rare for me to relax enough and show the real me--that crazy, silly, kooky side of me. Only a rare few are privileged to know that side.
Being highly reserved and prim may be self-protective mechanisms that served me well in the past, but as I have grown strong in recovery, my choices in friends have reflected my growing strength. I am now surrounded by those who will not hurt me, who will not purposefully use or abuse me. Still, I keep a closed fist on the real me, too afraid to loosen my grip on the only thing I feel that I can control in a friendship--me.
After that wild night of drinking, I was humiliated and terrified, wondering how my friends would respond to me and what they might think of me. I was reacting in an all-too-familiar and unnecessary way. Opening up and showing this crazy side of myself most likely made them feel closer to me and made me more real than I ever had been. This wild night bonded us in laughter and memory, all solid foundations for a friendship. And that's what I'm afraid of--letting go, moving on, and allowing others to get close to me.
I cannot avoid all pain in my life by controlling every situation. I cannot control other people and their reactions, thoughts, and beliefs. This facade of always being cool and in control that I chose to portray will not endear people to me if I am not being genuine, if I am being what I think other people want of me. What I need to be is me, and only me. I must learn to accept that I am good enough as is and that those who I cannot please are not worth the effort to please.
Ironic that it took me getting drunk to realize just how entrenched my issues are with control. An old dog can learn new tricks--it may just take a little more time and a little more practice to learn--and, a lot more patience. I would never advocate alcohol as means to figuring out problems, but going out of my comfort zone certainly enlightened me. As Eleanor Roosevelt said, "Do one thing every day that scares you." Let go of the need for control.
Cheers!
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