Recognising when you’ve given your power away

A reflection on the consequences of allowing my power to reside in the hands of another.

I have recently had the experience of coming back to myself.

I came to develop a relationship in my life in which it became evident over time that I was giving my power away to the other person in this relationship. I was weakened, made vulnerable and completely helpless to myself. This was a complete power play, in which I had swiftly become the loser.

I refer to a relationship that was evidently more personal than it ever was professional, and professional it was supposed to be. To save on breaching conduct, I’ll expose the happenings through a metaphorical story juxtaposed to my situation:

A young girl desires love from her guardian. Orphaned as a child, she was rejected during a vulnerable time when her consciousness was still developing and she was absorbent, like a sponge. Through her abandonment, she became aware of the lack of getting what she wanted, (love). She became aware of her deprivation and insecurity. The desire for love, nurturing and security grew stronger. Meanwhile, obstacles to her getting this love multiplied, narrowing her scope of belief in the likelihood of her ever receiving it.

One day, she meets a man. This man is kind to her. He listens to her and gives her a platform to feel heard. He validates her experiences and endorses her sense of worth every time that they meet. Being that her desire for love is so strong by this point and (concurrently) the depths of her feelings of deprivation for having lacked it for so long, she becomes addicted to what he is giving her.

At first, she is wary. But over time, she lets herself trust the love that is being given to her. She opens and opens, and at the same time, her addiction grows. She begins to suffer when she is not with him. She cries because she is made aware of the emptiness that she had become accustomed to prior to their meeting.

The contrast between the two is huge. She becomes dependent on him. Yet, as she begins to need him, he starts to pull away. It is subtle at first, and bearable. Yet eventually, being deprived of his love only deepens her suffering. She cannot find another way to access the feeling of love without him.

He eventually makes it clear to her that he cannot be the one to nurture and love her. Well, this is what he says … but his encouraging actions still speak of the opposite. He cannot help but enjoy being needed.

Through her desperation to ensure this new found love and life doesn’t come to an end, the girl breaks down boundaries in an effort to draw him back. She begins to take risks, each more dangerous than the last; compensating her safety and sanity just to get a taste of his love.

Now, as with all stories of change, there comes a breaking point:

The girls life is on the line. She toys with the idea of murder by her own hand; contemplates the notion of death as an out to her suffering. She has become so addicted to this man that she cannot remember how she lived before him. She is sure that there must be a future for her, but the pain of losing the love that she craved for so long feels unbearable. She would prefer to die than return to the emptiness.

On a particularly vulnerable Friday, she finds herself in the hospital Emergency room. She had almost let life slip from her hands …

She should have left him now, but she couldn’t. She needed to know: Did he mind that she could have died? Would it make him hold her closer?
He shows her care and concern, and she deduces that there is still hope.

The following week she goes to see him. He pulls her close, but not close enough. He leaves her hanging the following day, ignoring her calls and turning to face away. It is at this point that she feels she needs him the most. Her chest has been ripped open and she had trusted him to cotton wool the holes. She lay and bled in his absence, completely defeated and in despair.

By this point, however, the message was clear: She had basically passed him the sword. He held her life in his hands, and she had relinquished all control. The time had come to take her power back.

The decision came from a place deep within. She responded before the idea had completely formed in her mind.

‘It is time for me to move on. This no longer serves.’

She preached her decision loud and clear.

At first she felt a surge of relief, combined with an injection of re-empowerment.

What followed were some of the darkest days. Cut off from the source, she had to detox. She grieved and was angry and longed to go back to him. Yet something within her stopped her well before she was at risk of reaching out. She had come to see that her time with him had an expiry date. It would no longer be possible for her to fill herself with his love. Her sore heart could not be healed by another. Rather, she needed to learn to love herself.

She could comprehend it, but it was terrifying. She was at rock bottom and choosing to surrender to the dark. Would she be able to survive it? Yet with the help of that inner voice, she stuck firm to her decision and took heavy, courageous steps in an effort to piece herself back together.

Just days after it all went down, I found myself able to breathe once more. I resurfaced from the ocean, fresh and fiery and ready to fight. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for my strength to come back, and I attribute this to the solidity of my decision. Something powerful happens energetically when you make a definite and genuine decision to change, (as opposed to sitting on the fence).

I feel that this power play is a lesson that I have grappled with constantly over the years: I choose to let my power reside in others hands, when there is so much power within me. I deprive myself of love and joy and freedom by their hand. I wait for their permission or their validation. It’s a ridiculous way to live, really (all judgement removed). For when I am empowered, and I turn inward for my source of validation and love, it is endless and infinitely more accessible.

‘Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.’

– Carl Gustav Jung