Taking Back My Personal Power

I ran out of time to post a poem by Dana Faulds yesterday. Her words fit where my head was at in that moment, which was actually a good place. Today, unfortunately, my head is somewhere else entirely, and it isn’t pretty. So instead, I’m writing from the heart in hopes that my head will eventually find its way back there.

It hasn’t been a happy day.

Nothing catastrophic happened. Nobody died. I didn’t lose a finger or an eye. My house didn’t burn down. The sun is out, and it’s beautiful. So what’s the problem?

It’s simple. A favorite friend of mine decided this was going to be an unhappy day and did what a favorite friend can do to make sure I shared in the suffering. I’m trying to choose something else, but the truth is I’m pissed off, sad, and hurt. I feel a loss of personal power, and I don’t like it one bit.

The image that keeps coming to mind is a camel, overloaded, walking along the edge of a high mountain cliff. One more straw won’t just break its back, it will send it tumbling, creating an avalanche. And I’m the one standing below with an itty-bitty net. I can’t fix it. It hurts me too. And I’m struggling with my own anger toward the person who became the instrument of that hurt. Those feelings are making me physically sick.

Here’s what I do know.

When I allow someone else to upset me, I give my power away. When I react and let someone in a destructive headspace create exactly what they intend to create, I’m choosing to let them win. I’m choosing to let them control me. It could even be said that I’m hurting myself, because no one can actually make me feel angry. We are not puppet masters over one another’s thoughts, feelings, or behaviors.

I also know that the path to power and success does not involve blaming other people. Blame makes us helpless victims. Taking responsibility is where power lives.

That part is tricky, though. How do you take responsibility when someone else is behaving badly?

I know what responsibility does not mean. It doesn’t mean taking the blame for their actions or their feelings. The only thing I can control is me. Allowing someone to ruin my day is a form of blame, and it hands my power over. It’s an unsound decision that creates avoidable suffering and pulls me off the path I want to be on.

So how do I take my power back when it feels just out of reach?

This morning, there was a moment when I realized where I was. I was in a comfortable place, snuggling with my kitty. I realized how precious those moments are, and how few of them we ever truly know we have. I pulled myself back into the present and let myself love him enough to fall asleep for a short nap.

I needed to stop the negativity for my own health. Migraines come to me from emotional upset, even small disturbances. Managing them successfully requires me to keep my stress extremely low. Despite my efforts, I still woke up with a migraine.

That added another layer of frustration. Now I was angry that this person’s behavior had led to hours of nausea and pain, at a time when I needed to be well. It could even interfere with a job interview. That part isn’t fair. I didn’t deserve the inconsideration. That mistake is on them.

But continuing to feel angry? That part is on me.

As long as I stayed there, I had given my power away.

I tried letting go. It worked for moments, then the feelings crept back in. I redirected my thoughts again and again, but it was relentless. So I finally asked myself the harder question: Why does this keep coming back?

What is the invisible cord tying me to this powerlessness?

The answer, when it finally surfaced, was uncomfortable but clear.

I have a compulsion to fix people.

Some part of me believes that if someone realizes they’re causing suffering, they’ll wake up, apologize, and stop. That if I can just help them see things the way I do, everything will improve. Healthier choices. Less suffering. A win for everyone.

There it was.

Once again, I had been trying to control what I cannot control.

I can see answers clearly. But I can’t make anyone see what I see. I can’t force wisdom into a space that doesn’t welcome it. People only hear what they’re ready to hear, and they do it in their own way, in their own time.

I can only control me.

So here’s the truth, and I’m saying it here because this is my space.

Every single choice matters. Small, mundane decisions compound over time and create our lives. Organization or chaos. Health or neglect. Practice or avoidance. Growth or stagnation. Our thoughts shape our feelings, and our feelings shape our actions. Every thought is powerful. Nothing is insignificant.

If our philosophies aren’t working, we can change them. But we can’t have the life we want if we give control of it to others.

That brings me back to myself.

I know what I need to do, and I know the cost of not doing it. I still want an apology, but I can’t let that want keep me stuck in suffering. So I’m choosing compassion. I learned this from reading the Dalai Lama’s teachings: compassion has the power to dissolve anger.

Understanding another person’s suffering doesn’t excuse harmful behavior. That responsibility is still theirs. But forgiveness is in my power, and it heals me. It puts me back on the path I want to walk.

I won’t take their behavior personally anymore. I won’t respond with anger. I won’t carry the past forward and let it hurt me again and again. I didn’t create the original problem, I can’t fix it, and it isn’t my responsibility.

What is my responsibility is taking care of myself.

Right now, that means letting go of what is making me sick, taking back my personal power, and choosing to have an awesome day anyway.