To take back control of our lives, we should acknowledge, accept and free ourselves from our past.
There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in.Graham Greene
When I was 10 years old, my teacher asked me to stay later after class. She had an appointment with my parents and wanted me to be there. Like every 10-year old would be, I was terrified that she caught me messing around in the library for way longer than the 30 minutes that were allowed. Or that she saw me sticking my gum under the table instead of throwing it in the trash. But this wasn’t about either of those things. It was about something different.
I didn’t go to a traditional elementary school. We didn’t do math problems between 10.00 and 11.00 and then writing exercises between 11.00 and 12.00. We were allowed to make our own schedule for the day, working on whatever we wanted, for however long we wanted (library visits were the one thing that had a time limit…).
For some kids this didn’t work too well. They wanted more guidance. More structure. For me, however, it was perfect.
The conversation with my teacher and parents wasn’t about the library or my gum. It was about me being ahead of the curriculum by almost a year. My teacher was afraid that she wouldn’t have enough work to keep me occupied for another 2 years before I transferred to high school. Her solution? She wanted me to skip a grade.
Seeing as this was the last year in which it was possible, my parents agreed. And me? Well, I was ecstatic. No one in my entire school skipped a grade that year. I was the only one. I felt like the bomb. But even more so — I felt like the best.
How my childhood sneakily shaped my future
What was a great feeling at the time, subconsciously turned into an unhealthy obsession throughout my adulthood. In everything that I did, I was no longer satisfied with a participation medal. Nor was I satisfied with coming in second. I had to be the best. I had to be number one. Anything below that? It felt like losing.
Whether it was sports, gaming, my studies, social skills or relationships, I developed an insane drive to learn everything I could about the subject. To practice it as much as I could and to excel in any way possible. At one point in my life I got into philosophy and came across the concepts of Buddhism and Daoism. Specifically, concepts in the realm of ‘letting go of desires to achieve peace of mind’ really resonated with me. Ironically, I did everything in my power to become the best at letting go of any desire.
I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how that panned out.
My drive for being the best is not all that stuck with me. I didn’t always feel understood by the people around me as a kid. As a result I didn’t particularly enjoy talking about my emotions. I was funny and was gifted with decent social sensitivity, though, which quickly made me realize that cracking jokes would distract people from the original topic of a conversation.
In essence, I learned that humor = people leave me the hell alone.
And in the realm of love? Well, I don’t think I’ve seen my parents fight, or even yell at each other, a single time in my life. There were never any issues between them — only love. I’m blessed to have had such an amazing space to grow up in as a kid. But that kid never saw any example of what boundaries are. And more importantly, how to set them.
My inner child was managing my life, but I never appointed him as the leader
So what happens when you put all that together? You get an overconfident adult that is unable to deal with losing and self-imposes overly high expectations, that also has difficulty letting go of desires and has no clue how to deal with people who overstep (unidentified) boundaries.
Hey. Nice to meet you.
Of course it wasn’t all bad. I actually had an amazing childhood. Many of these experiences brought me incredible things later on in life. Success. Knowledge. Confidence.
But these experiences did — unknowingly — have an incredible impact on who I was and how I lived. How I treated and responded to other people. What my goals and priorities were. How I acted as a partner. And a whole lot of other things.
The problem is, I was never conscious of this impact. My inner child was largely managing my life, thoughts, feelings and behaviours and he did so without my permission. He was the one in charge.
Appointing new management
After I became conscious of this impact, I was able to have an honest look at my own patterns and their origins. For each of my patterns, I was then able to decide — this time consciously — whether that was something that was still useful for me right now, or whether I wanted to let go of it.
In other words, I kicked out my inner child as the manager and replaced him with my current self. And this new manager felt a lot more fitting.
That inner child is different for everyone. We all have our own experiences and developed patterns. Only when we identify our unique patterns and causes of those patterns are we able to acknowledge them for what they are, give them the attention they deserve and consciously take back control of our lives. In a way that we would want to now.
So. Who’s actually in charge of your life right now?