Admitting my own powerlessness over alcohol was the very beginning of my recovery. I had to admit that any control I once had over my drinking was gone. That I could never take just one drink, because one drink would lead to many until chaos and destruction took over my life again. As humbling as it was, it was freeing. I was finally allowed to give up the struggle for control.
And again, later, I’d admit powerlessness over other things that I couldn’t control: The actions of other people. What they thought of me. Their emotions and values.
I’d have to admit that there were some scenarios that never would have gone the way I wanted, no matter what I did. I had no power over them. No control. This helped me to stop ruminating on things that I could have done differently. In many situations, I found that I did the best I could with the tools I had at the time - and even if I could have done “better,” that still wouldn’t determine the outcome or the responses of the other people involved. Basically this means that, in any dynamic, even if you’re 100% on top of your shit, the dynamic is doomed if the other person isn’t working on their shit, too.
And powerlessness isn’t the same as helplessness, although for me, I think they are related. Because I struggled so much with situations out of my control, I’d feel helpless when things didn’t go the way I wanted or planned. My own helplessness was a learned belief, one reinforced by trauma. What I didn’t understand was that, although I am powerless over other people and their actions, I am not helpless as to how I engage with them. I am not unable to dictate how much access they have to me. I am allowed to advocate for myself and draw real boundaries - even if it pisses people off.
And believe me, it pisses people off.
Especially people that are used to having unlimited access to you. There are people that have essentially told me I’ve failed them by moving away from Buffalo. That I’m not fulfilling some pre-determined responsibility to take care of them and make them happy. That I’ve somehow betrayed them by limiting their access to me and saying, “That is not mine to carry. I can no longer hold unlimited space for your anger, your pain, and your challenges when you refuse to do any real, reflective work on yourself.”
But here’s the thing - you don’t owe anyone anything just because you share blood. You are allowed to say “No” to toxicity and emotional abuse. Even when it’s hard or they shame you for it.
And it doesn’t mean you’re heartless. It means that you a) can’t take care of anyone else if you aren’t taking care of your own physical and mental health first, and b) some people’s problems come down to codependency, their own relationship and attachment trauma, or even mental illness, and NONE of us can be expected to shoulder those burdens. That’s what therapists are for.
And you can’t make someone own their shit and take care of it accordingly. That’s the powerless part of this. You can’t make someone else critically examine their own behaviors and admit their faults and seek long-term, life-altering help and redemption. But you can choose how much you’ll engage with them, while you do your own work and conserve your energy to show up as the best version of yourself in all areas of your life.
I am powerless, but I am not helpless.
Some critical things I think about when choosing how and when to engage in difficult dynamics/relationships:
What do I get out of this relationship? Is it worth the energy I exhaust on it?
How much space is there for me in this dynamic? Do I feel like the other person takes an active interest in my life and genuinely cares about how I’m doing? (I’ve known people that will talk at me for nearly an hour on the phone before ever asking how I’m doing. And then once they ask, the conversation turns back to them anyway.)
How do I feel after conversations with this person? Do I feel energized? Loved? Supported? Or do I feel anxious, sad, and drained?
Are our values aligned? If they’re not aligned, are we able to navigate those differences without compromising our own values, harming ourselves, others, or each other?
When I express a difficulty in the dynamic is it received without judgement? Can I listen to feedback without becoming judgemental or defensive?
How does conflict manifest? Do we try to navigate it gently and with compassion or are we more concerned with preserving our egos? This is especially relevant for me, because I confuse the two things all the time: Am I protecting a legitimate boundary for my health and safety or am I just protecting my fragile ego?
More on boundaries vs. ego later, as these themes come up for me a lot in interpersonal dynamics, especially as they relate to polyamory.
When it comes to our relationships, we are generally powerless over the other person. But we get to determine which of these relationships we dedicate our time and energy to by paying attention to how they make us feel. It’s often that simple.
