On my 30th birthday, I was still shadow-boxing, battling to discover the answer to the question, “Why am I here?” I thought I was born to be a mother, and yet that had yet to happen. I write about that in another post. I can recall the day of my birthday very clearly. It was very uneventful.

That’s what makes it stand out in my mind. I was angry. Bitter and frustrated that nothing seemed to be going the way I wanted it to go. But it wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t what I wanted. It was empty — and I abhorred that emptiness.

I was angry at my ex-husband for not realizing that my 30th birthday was supposed to be a special day. I expected him to do something, and he didn’t. And it hurt me so much that I spent the day pretending to be happy, while inside I was anything but.

It’s ridiculous that we can get so angry at others for not meeting our expectations — even when we’ve never even shared that we have these certain desires.

So, I took control. A day before my birthday, when it occurred to me that nothing was going to happen on my birthday unless I did something, I started to call all of my friends, and family and planned my own party. It came together beautifully. Everyone was there to celebrate with me, and to love me. But it wasn’t enough. Because it wasn’t what I wanted. What I wanted was a surprise party. But the truth is, that would have been impossible – because I also wanted to control it all! 🙂

When I look back at that time of my life, I realize that what made me the most angry was that I had no control.

All I wanted was what I wanted. I thought I knew what my life should be. I was bitter that things weren’t going the way I had planned.

And the more I tried to control everything, the more out of control my life became.

Eventually, the bottom fell out. Except it didn’t happen all at once. My bitterness made it a slow, painful process. My anger was my cross to bear, and I played the victim like a champ, so the bottom didn’t come quickly. It came ever-so-slowly, like a gigantic bandaid being ripped off one day after another.

Until I was numb to the pain, and just going through the motions — pretending to be alive.

I am so grateful for that painful journey.

Because, today, because of that painful journey, I know that I am not in control. I still struggle with this (every day). I still want to be in control. I want to be able to skip to the last page of the book, so that I can make certain I will like how the story ends.

But, I realize today, that I am not driving.

I am in control of only two things — my thoughts, and how I react to those thoughts. How things turn out, is not within my control. And when I finally came to accept this, it allowed me to truly begin to enjoy the journey.

I just know that my job is to show up, do my best, give my love, and know that I have done my part. The rest, is not up for me to decide. And, that’s ok, because I finally know why I am here: to help others find their purpose, by helping them see the goodness — no the GREATNESS that exists in the world when we realize we’re really not driving. 

Also published on Medium.

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