For a long time, I felt that my life isn’t my own. I felt that in many fields in my life, I was led by other people, whether it was my career, relationships, or others. I allowed others to decide for me, to think for me, to take control over me. My life has become a series of events that happened to me, instead of ones that bring into existence. To be frank, the most prominent field of life in which I felt this feeling was the romantic one.
I met Zach when I was in my ’20s. Like with all my bad relationships, everything seemed to be going great at first. However, over time, he showed me who he was. He wanted to control every aspect of my life – where I went, who I spent my time with, the clothes I wore. He wanted me to surrender myself to him, and for reasons I can’t explain, I obliged. I lost grasp on myself and started to depend on him for everything. I wanted to believe in what we have; I was so in love with him, so I let it go on. I put up with everything that he did to me because I wanted it to last. This relationship, and the brief ones that came after it drove me over the edge – it was time for me to take the wheel.
Up until then, I sat in the passenger’s seat; I let someone else drive the car of my life. It was time for me to claim back control of my life. So, about two years ago, while doing some work on myself, I worked on this part of my life as well. I needed to be the one making her own decisions, to have control of my life, to be its driver. It finally sank in that this is my life to run, and no one else’s. I must be the one to run this show because no one is going to look after me better than me.