Solitary Night, Alone with My Thoughts

Is my life my own? Are my experiences, choices and thoughts mine? Does it matter if no one else sees or ever knows of my experiences? I was raised to pay more attention to other people than to myself, and was trained to be constantly aware of how my thoughts and actions interact with the emotions and actions of those around me. I watch a movie and I wonder how it affects the person sitting beside me. I map my courses and strategically plan how I will present my successes with them. If I'm happy I am allowed to admit it, but I must hesitate before expression to be sure it is welcomed. I have never been allowed to be more successful, to feel emotionally better, than specific people in my life. For three years I have not interacted with my sister (I've initiated communication only to be ignored), however her (and others') negativity has swum through the microscopic cells of my body. I have cut off all contact, but still the shards swim, slicing through my veins, reminding me that I have not received permission to be happy, to enjoy my life--that my life is not mine.

I am watching "The Beach," the scene where they have been taken to an intimate, white sand beach by the island clan in a gesture of welcome, and LD falls back, taking in where he is. I feel this scene, this moment, because although it's an intimate space, it's also clearly a part of the larger Earth. There are no televisions, telephones or post offices. Not a single soul off the island is even aware they are there. LD's experiences are for the most part his own. He swims, interacts, fishes, works and plays in the jungle of the island. I imagine that each of his senses are open and his mind is clear, like freshly cleaned, streak-free windows on a perfectly clear, sunny day. This is what I want. To feel the freedom of my own life. To live it without wondering if anyone is watching. To make choices without wondering how they will affect others, not in the sense of "If I don't go to the store my child won't eat" but in the sense of "This is good and right for me, and it doesn't matter if no other person on this overcrowded planet ever knows."

Letting go of this truly terrifies me. I don't know what it's like to not have this pulling me down. I'm scared of heights, and I imagine that being free this way would feel like flying, soaring higher and higher. Would I be able to stop? Should I keep myself grounded as I was taught to be? I want to be free, I want to soar, but the thought terrifies as much as it entices.