You Are the Creator of Your Emotions: Lessons from an Ex-Victim-of-the-Universe
My college advisor called me into his office for another long chat.
“If you had some ambition, you could really go places,” he said, almost pleadingly.
I put on a stoic expression, my first line of defense, but I was panicking. I desperately hoped he wasn’t seeing through the veil of my academic success and into the black void of my purposelessness, self-loathing, and despair.
Ever-patient, he sighed. “I have to ask. What is your dream?”
I didn’t have to put any thought into my answer. By then, I had it memorized. It was the only reply I ever gave when people asked me this particularly painful question:
“I want to move to some faraway, isolated mountaintop and live as a recluse.”
I chuckled to play my confession off as a cynical joke, but I meant every word. For over a decade, I had dreamed of shutting myself away from the world.
If my advisor had asked why, I might have told him how, since I was twelve years old, my life had been a series of miserable school years, toxic friendships, family deaths, fruitless people-pleasing, and unbearable loneliness.
In retrospect, I understand that these events, however painful they were for me, were not my real problem. I dreamed of becoming a recluse for one reason and one reason alone: because I had convinced myself that I was a victim of the universe.
The world was big and bad, and I was too fragile for it. There were times when I believed some higher power was punishing me, so I accepted the negative aspects of my life like I deserved them. I had one mantra, and it was, “Why is this happening to me?” I was the star of my own Shakespearean tragedy. I monologued daily about the unfairness of the situations I found myself in, but never made any real effort to change them. Instead, I was an inactive participant in my own life. I had no boundaries, no self-regard, and worst of all no intention for my present or future.
Rather than look at myself honestly, I blamed others for my problems. To me, my friends were harbingers of self-loathing and disappointment. When other people’s posts on Instagram made me feel terribly about myself, I deleted the app altogether. In my efforts to avoid feeling insecure, I eventually deleted all my social media accounts. Though, when I was socially isolated and alone, I complained about that, too.
My only strategy for dealing with misery was to wait it out. If I felt helpless in my situation, I would tell myself the next phase of my life would be better.
“Junior high was hell, but high school will be better,” I’d say.
It wasn’t.
“Well, high school was awful, but college will definitely be the turning point.”
I was a miserable college senior when I took to the internet, for what felt like the millionth time, in search of something, some guru, a bit of wisdom, or a life hack that would finally lead me to contentment.
This time, I stumbled upon Wu Wei Wisdom, a YouTube channel belonging to “Taoist monk and multi-disciplinary therapist, David James Lees, and wellness coach and feng shui designer, Alexandra Lees.” Their practical, no-nonsense spirituality was unlike anything I’d heard before, and it spoke to me.
“You are the creator of your emotions, NOT the victim of them,” David insisted.
This statement, which seems so intuitive now, cleared my vision. It blew my mind. In that moment, I could see the patterns of my life as if from above, and I realized that the monster I’d been running from my whole life was me – my self-neglecting choices, my damaging self-talk, my passivity, my people-pleasing. It was the first time I’d had a genuine epiphany, and the first time I recognized myself as the creator of my life, not the victim of it.
Here was the problem at last, but what was the solution?
A little self-responsibility.
I went back to therapy. I ended toxic relationships I had maintained for years. I stopped blaming others for my low self-esteem, began to pay attention to my overwhelmingly negative self-talk, and devoted myself to changing it. I created emotional boundaries where I’d had none before. I made it my duty to care for myself and put myself first, even if it meant disappointing others.
It was all so hard at first, but as the months passed, these healthy initiatives became habit, and soon I was doing good things for myself without thinking. I started to value myself.
Learning to love myself has been a messy and painful process, one that will be lifelong, but by letting go of beliefs, behaviors, and relationships that didn’t serve me, I’ve delivered myself to a much better place, mentally, emotionally, and physically.
Truthfully, though, this transformation has also left me a little lost; I no longer have an answer when people ask me, “What’s your dream?”
The only thing I know now is that, whatever life I envision for myself, I must actively strive to create it.
