As far back as I can remember, there was always this other being, something or someone greater than myself, who for a lack of better words, moved me around with proverbial puppet strings. This being, however, was something aloft, not caring, not someone I could speak to or communicate with. It was someone in control of my life whether I wanted it or not, who made the final decisions as to what would happen to me, someone who could cause either joy or pain in my life. This being had chosen me to be right where I was, in the family I was in and the life that I was to live. It was daunting, it was as if whatever I choose or did, if not part of this being’s plan, would be squelched in the end. From my understanding, which developed through those in the religious organization in which I was raised, pronounced that this being could only care or love me if I was good. If I was able to keep every rule and regulation set by those in charge. If I could be deserving of love.

Deserving of love; deserving of love. This is the core of the issue, am I deserving of love? How can anyone in this world of chaos and free will be deserving of love in such a demanding and matter of fact way. It seems impossible to me, it seemed impossible to me throughout my whole life.  If this being could not love me for who I was, the being that he created, how could anyone who was below him do the same? Those in my life, family, friends and strangers who I would meet in my travels through this world, would not be able to see my true self and care or love me. There were always conditions to be met.  Of course, when I was young things seemed so straight forward there were no choices, no decisions to move away from, only these impressions or thoughts of this being, it just was and there was no other way. My view of love was not one without unconditional aspects, there was only conditional love and I had to meet those conditions, even if it was not who I was or what my personality wanted to be, it was whatever I was expected to be in order to be someone to be aware of or loved.

As I grew and realized that perhaps these puppet strings I had imagined when I was young were not so tight, movement in any direction was realized, even if not approved or recommended. As my teen years came upon me, and curiosity about the world outside of this organization came into my being, I started to stretch those cords however the snap back was always inevitable. This inevitability was not something that I realized, but was based on my own assumptions, perhaps even my own fears. Whatever it was, I felt that I could not escape from its control. The older that I became, the concept of this all controlling organism grew into another concept, not so much as a controlling creature but one that put forth certain requirements to meet. If the requirements were met on a consistent basis, using the old saying, all the “I’s dotted and t’s crossed,” I might illicit a ray of light and love from the outside force. Perhaps a bit of conditional love might be thrown my way, just as someone might throw a bone to a dog. Just enough, something to continue the searching, to please mentality that was supposedly required.

With this new vision of the all mighty creature, a new reality started to fester and grow. That of free will, that is, the freedom to not attempt to live up to the expectations. If I could not meet the requirements, why try? If no matter how good, or how many acts of obedience committed did not guarantee a positive or permanent response, why bother? This concept opened a great door of choices, and those choices called to me louder than anything up to that point in my life.  As these loud calls took over, adventures into the world became a possibility, a temptation.  It seemed like a blinder had been lifted both from my eyes and my mind.  The only problem was that those around me, such as my mother and those in the organization did not agree. With this disagreement came an attempt to tighten the reins that bound me, but the more they attempted to tighten them, the more I pulled against them. Ever searching for that weak link in the ropes that held me, the one that if I tried hard enough would break, freeing me from this life of oppression.

To be continue