I don't know. Time for a painful self-confession. I am kind of a control freak. Wait, but not in the way you think a control freak typically is or the sort of image that readily comes to mind. I don't obsess over napkin folds or place settings. I do have a problem when prints or paintings not aligned well but alas, I do not insist on a certain compositional strata or color scheme. What I do attempt to control is life. My life. I want to be able to plan its outcomes. I want to know which way I am going.
I guess to be really honest here, and to share a recent example of the control thing, I so wanted a particular romance to turn out right. I wanted a guy I loved to love me too. Yeah, I have fallen in love before. Like all of us, I have experienced significant heartbreak throughout the years, but this time I was really taken. Smitten. Maybe even a bit obsessed. He was older. Self-assured. Confident. Charismatic. I know there is a semblance of a theory out there that we attract what we most seek in ourselves. Perhaps so. I did try and reinvent myself into the person I thought he wanted. But I came up short. In the act of trying to be something other than myself, I was never quite comfortable. I was too afraid to expose my authentic self and thus, nothing really developed or thrived. Yes, we shared a certain sexual chemistry but that doesn't go the distance. You do try and convince yourself that it does. That sexual connection speaks its own language. It does and it doesn't. Hormones speak a talk that is hot, quick and then silent. It can be confusing. It confused me. I would be high off the dopamine generated by touch and intimacy and crash too soon upon the lack of sustained involvement. I know. Blah, blah. We have all been here or know this scenario well. What is so crazy is that I could not stop myself from trying to exert control. To make someone love me. To force a certain outcome.
Being alone is hard. It makes you think everyone has someone. You feel as if you're on the outside always. You characterize yourself as defective. Flawed. If you're someone like me, you try and change your status constantly. You peruse self-help texts. You try and manifest a partner. You start a new exercise routine. Get a haircut. You listen to podcasts and swear you will love yourself first and foremost and yet there are the moments of vulnerability that hit you hard-- when you find yourself sitting on a NYC subway car and wiping away tears so to ensure the person nearby doesn't think you're mentally disturbed and about to rage.
Non-action is harder still. Relinquishing control. Letting things be. I think it's the rawness of it all that really stings. And so it goes...
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