On Being Still

I am on my short but very solo retreat in the middle of Brno. My intention these few days was to remain disconnected as much as possible, take some mental inventory away from all the noise and overloads of information that constantly clouds my truth. I am finding that I am unable to sit still with myself for anything longer than two minutes (and that’s not an exaggeration). I am not necessarily meditating in the sense of sitting with my eyes closed and silencing my mind. I am sitting on this wooden chair attempting to sit perfectly straight and breathe deeply while I simultaneously drink my coffee that I absolutely need because I never know what to do with my hands. I sit there for a few seconds, then put my feet up on the railing rather than the floor. I put my feet on the chair. I sit criss crossed on the chair. Then I get up frustrated by how uncomfortable I am to find another distraction - a doughnut. Granted I am a bit hungry, but it’s more about my incessant need to move. 


My life is full of distractions. I often find myself comparing myself to other afflictions. I’m glad I didn’t inherit such as addiction. But I am finding out that is not exactly the truth. I am thankfully not addicted to alcohol or drugs (though that fear still lingers over me), but I am addicted to abandoning myself. I am addicted to reacting rather than questioning. I am addicted to my fear because it tricks me into thinking I actually have control. These addictions I imagine as pre-programmed files in my head. My childhood abuse and trauma as pre-programmed fearful files into the very core of my being. Those of us burdened with trauma have never had the foundation of truly learning about ourselves and the holiness of just being. Children from alcoholic and addiction-based homes often find themselves at two extremes: overly responsible or defiant. Whichever end of the spectrum you are on there is one common theme: abandoning the self. Abandonment of the self shows up in too many ways to list here. If we look deep enough within, we will be shown exact ways we participate in leaving our minds, bodies, and spirits. 

This abandonment leaks into my ability to be vulnerable and choose love. When I am living in fear, I am seeking control of others and myself so there will be no surprises. I need to be well prepared, independent, and self-made. My fear coincidentally tells me to be independent while simultaneously pleasing others. My fear tells me that love is weakness. The victimhood of my childhood trickled into my adulthood by telling me that my victimhood was not over. So as a result I do not know the difference between victimization and boundaries. I have failed to listen to myself when I knew someone was not worthy of my vulnerability and chose to love people (platonic and romantic) that I knew would hurt me. When I did not receive the reciprocal love, I told myself I was the victim again. People in my life that actively choose to love me are often met with my reluctance. I am learning now that I must actively participate wholeheartedly in relationships that are met with mutual love and vulnerability including respect, care, healthy boundaries, attentiveness, and affection. 

All fear comes from a place of collective trauma. Am I really all that different from the addicts in my life? I would strongly suggest I am not. The same fear that keeps me victimhood is the same fear that reaches for a bottle. People in sobriety inspire me to sober my own afflictions. There are only two paths in life: fear and love. Most of us are taught from childhood to live in fear, but my hope is we all unlearn and relearn to live in love.