Tomorrow’s my surgery*.
And my inner control freak is acting UP.
Not just today. She was quite active over the past couple of weeks already. But she was cleverly disguising her grasp for control as being smart and prepared.
And yes, I’m prepared and was smart about it.
And yes, a hint of trying to control what happens may have been present.
This morning I woke up, and all gloves were off.
The inner control freak, let’s call her Betsy, threw her disguise in the bin and revealed herself in all her ‘glory’.
She wanted to make a list of questions and instructions for the anesthesiologist. Things they need to do, not do, pay extra attention to.
She wanted to google ‘suddenly waking up during surgery’ and how often that happened and what’s done to prevent it.
She wanted …
A lot.
And years ago, I would have obeyed.
The list would have been ready and I’d be a world renowned expert on suddenly waking up during surgery and how to prevent it by now.
Not this time.
I let Betsy rant until she wore herself out.
I could feel her thrashing around in my innards, my throat, around my heart.
It was uncomfortable.
The very discomfort that used to make me make that list and google that scary thing.
But it’s only discomfort.
It’s only a bunch of sensations the mind labels undesirable and unpleasant.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
The discomfort doesn’t predict an outcome.
Trying to control it doesn’t impact an outcome.
Betsy was only doing what she was conditioned to do:
Trying to control what happens.
Trying to control life.
And when I didn’t pay attention to her tantrum, she left the building.
Quite quickly.
The dust is still settling, but she’s gone.
At least for now.
Your Betsy, who may be called Martha or Pesky Bitch, is also a control freak.
Chances are that she disguised herself as Miss Preparation, Miss Responsible or Miss Smart, too.
If and when she shows up, remember:
You don’t have to obey her.
Just let her stomp around.
She’ll eventually slither out.
And you see she never had any substance.
And you feel that the space she leaves behind was always already there:
That deep exhale that lets you breathe out from your bones.
That sudden softening of your shoulders.
That calming of the mind.
It was always there.
Even when Betsy/Martha/Pesky Bitch was stomping around.
Love,
P.S. If your Betsy is running circles around you at times, and you’re tired of obeying her:
that’s what private coaching is for.
Your shoulders drop. You exhale from your bones.
* P.P.S. In case you’re wondering what kind of surgery is happening (I bet you were, but you were just too polite to ask about it):
It’s breast reduction surgery.
Something I’ve been wanting all my life but never dared before.
And somehow, now was the time.
And I’m looking forward to it.
By the time you’re reading this, I’m already healed—all went super well.
P.P.P.S. Liked this blog?
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