Not A Step Further!
The other night after having put my pajamas on, I had to walk to my bed to go to sleep. I am speaking of a well-known to me route of no more than five steps which has never before become a product of any deliberation. All of a sudden and somewhat out of nowhere I caught myself concluding that I couldn’t and didn’t want to take one step further towards the bed, the feeling was bizarre and undeniably laughable. I must further mention that the experience didn’t last longer than approximately a minute. I was staring at my bed and I couldn’t believe a strong and definitive feeling shaping itself in a revolt commanding that I didn’t take another step towards my bed because it meant to go to sleep on the schedule, have nightmares originating as a result of the abusive intellectual, spiritual, moral and physical life on the schedule, wake up the next morning on that same schedule, explore yoga, ride my bike, meditate, flirt with squirrels, spy on dolphins, get intoxicated on flowers’ perfume, discover inner treasures, undergo intellectual attacks, dream, go to work, explain myself, my thoughts, decisions and actions to those demanding clarifications, justifications and answers on the schedule again; consume food, and enjoy reading, writing or other activities of my supposed preference and liking on the damn schedule.
To clarify it further, my impression was that I have my body and mind in a set up mode reacting in expected ways numerous times a day throughout life each time the alarm goes off either on my night stand or in my manipulated and programmed brain. In short, please allow me to dare state that we take each breath under draining anxiety: our every muscle is strained each moment of our lives not excluding our sleep and including vacation time and maternity leaves because we are paranoid and under a manufactured belief that firstly we must be always on guard and prepared to confront petrifying but indefinable dangers that are just around the corner, preparing to jump out at us or what is worse to march on us, that are a part of life, are almost a necessary evil and are unavoidable; and secondly that we must manage a planned task, i.e. life, in a satisfactory to others, acceptable by the system and efficient manner. Please let’s not forget that all this madness is on top of self-doubt.
I felt like a slave who trembles and aches from obedience and enslavement and whose impenetrable and almost mystical ignorance doesn’t allow to comprehend basic aspects such as where she is, who she is, why she is here, where she comes from, where she is going to, who the master is, what tranquilizers are injected in her daily, where the danger is approaching from, where the thoughts in her head originate from, how to tame, interpret and apply them and of what use or importance they are if any, and furthermore, what weapon or resolution might exist that she could use to withstand the master and set herself free: no, no, no!! I couldn’t do it anymore: I was staring at my bed as if it was a torture cot; another moment it felt as if I was about to begin my last journey of five steps leading to my execution to be performed on my bed soon to be renamed a scaffold; I was gasping for air; I wanted to be released; I wanted either myself or the bed to disappear; I urgently needed to find the pause button; I wanted liberty for my thoughts, actions, dreams, expressions, movements and desires: I wanted to live on my own time and be my own person even without knowing what it exactly meant or felt like to be one’s own person; I had to get off drugs prescribed by Mr. Weakness and Mrs. Doubt; I wanted; I needed; I had to and yet it all seemed impossible under the given system.
I knew that I was a loser that night. I knew that the only option available to me but unacceptable and futile at that moment was to collapse on the floor and weep like a spoiled child tearing my hair out, hitting my head on a wall and shouting that I wouldn’t take another step towards my bed and the only way that there was for ‘them’ to have me go to sleep was to grab me under my arms and forcefully drag me into the bed, put a life jacket on me and drug me to sleep. I also felt almost indifferent: yes, the revolt in me happened with intensity, suddenness and clarity; yes, it was refreshing and in a way ground-breaking but it developed in silence and it was fruitless as far as immediate changes were concerned: it was just me standing by myself not far from my bed staring at it as if it was my rival analyzing who will begin attacking first, what my defense strategy should be and frantically attempting to comprehend speculations visiting my confused up to its limits brain at the speed of light if not eternally faster. I sensed I would lose even before the rebellion expressed itself: I knew damn well, I had no other choice but to continue towards my bed, give myself a clear instruction and obediently put myself to sleep, yet again to wake up the next morning and submit my precious time and flawless intelligence to my creditors, masters, trustees, guarantors, congressmen, soldiers, parents, friends, lovers and all others who depend on my unconditional surrender and are hungry for a piece of me having their vampire bloody teeth always ready and sharp.
It became crystal clear that evening: I am a machine; I don’t belong to myself; I have sold myself for a closet of fancy shoes that came wrapped in innumerable and nonnegotiable obligations, terms, conditions and interest rates with my sanity and life itself set as collateral and that I am programmed and manipulated by others and exist for others. I finally grasped it: my freedom was nothing but an illusion; all actions, no matter how courageous they emerge on the surface, are performed to fit in. I knew I was in a battle for my individual freedom…
Shhhhh!… I made my conscious choice or it was not me? Have we not been voluntarily compromising and making sacrifices daily since we were little kids if not the moment we took out first breath in return for items and experiences we found vital for our prosperity whether it was financial or intellectual, spiritual, moral and physical barefacedly refusing to acknowledge how infinitely far from the Truth this was? Could it then be and will it be just to admit that the battle is with no one other than my own self? The battle is within: a battle between fake and true Anna, between strengths and weaknesses, vices and virtues; a battle for survival and quality of life, for finding out what is essential in life, for truth, brilliance and greatness and for the tomorrow of the mankind. Free of aggression, expression of self-hatred, denouncement, criticism, judgment or reprisal, true Anna must confidently claim her rights back, unconditionally believe in her genius and part her ways with self-doubt; let her undefeatable strengths, talents and passions lead her on her journey; assertively set her own rules and obey her own laws; resolutely disallow any intrusion in her independence, corruption of her values or any intellectual, moral, spiritual and physical abuse; and indisputably settle in her inherent and well deserved seat on the Throne of Life leaving no other choice for fake, weak, corrupt and petty Anna but absolute capitulation.