Lying in my bed, tossing and turning, I began to take stock of my life. I had closed my eyes and looked to make sense of my weight gains and losses – my addictions and overcoming my strongholds. I hated to see that my addictions had me bound up. All my life I have fluctuated up and down. I have never been over 250 lbs, but I have been “obese” by the AMA standards. I have had limits to my physical stamina, issues with intimacy, and struggles with my own self image. Any addiction has a mask and deceives you and makes you think you have control of your own life, but in reality it is your prison and IT has the control over you. I began to drift off to sleep and began to dream. A vision came into my mind – a story of life and falling off the wagon and getting back on.
I was going down a dirt road on the back of a wagon, pulled by a horse and driven by a coachman. I was sitting on the edge of this dirty, wooden, cracked, hard flatbed. There wasn’t anything to hold onto, except the edge of the bed. I sat with my feet dangling down, getting lost in the dust being kicked up by the wheels. I held on tight as there were no shock absorbers, and the ride was very rough. My arms began to get weary as I clenched with all my strength. Every so often a huge bump would come and I would actually bounce up off the wood, only to come back down and feel the ache in my bottom. I have to say, I was sick of watching where I had been – I wanted to see where I was going, but I just couldn’t get myself turned around. I was still holding on, my arms were weak, my hands were getting numb and all of a sudden – BOOM. I fell off the back of the wagon. The coachman did not realize I was not there and continued on his way.
After the dust settled I looked around. I knew where I was. I had been there before. I got up and started to walk. I recognized some people as they drove by me. Some of my acquaintances were sitting on the back of the wagon as I was, some were sitting in the middle of the wagon, some were up front with the coachman, some were driving alone, and then there were some who were actually driving other people.
I hid my face from the people I knew and envied the people I saw that were riding smoothly. I wished that I was not walking – the path was so dark, so rough, and it was getting very spooky and lonely. I sat down to take a rest.
Just as I was starting to cry out for help a wagon pulled up to me. It stopped, and I jumped on the back. I rode there for a while – in the same position I was before. It wasn’t too long before it happened again – I had bounced right off the wagon. I cried and cried. I hid from people who passed and wished I could fade off into the night – however, I felt like there was a spot light on me.
After hours of sobbing and feeling sorry for myself, I got up and started to walk. I knew where I was, I just didn’t know where I was going. Another wagon stopped in front of me, but this one was different. It had a bench in the back. It had a cushion and a handle bar. I jumped on and took a seat in the middle of the wagon. I adjusted my body to get comfortable. I wanted to stay in this seat for as long as I could. I took a hold of the handle bar, but didn’t feel as if I had to squeeze it. I did have to hold on though; it was still a rough ride. However, the bench was facing forward so I could see the potholes and bumps in the road. When I saw one coming, I clenched my hands and hung on tight.
After the bumps were behind me I was able to relax a bit – but I was still prepared for the next pothole. Just as started to get comfortable, I started to close my eyes and just coast – that’s when it happened – a bump that made me lose my balance, I started to fall, but I was able to catch myself. I sat back down and realized that this was not the time to sleep.
We passed by more people; some I knew, some I didn’t. As I was riding I saw a friend of mine on the side of the road. She looked as lost and as frustrated as I did, not too long ago. We stopped and I helped her onto the wagon. I told her if she was ready that we can work together to stay balanced and keep each other safe and secure on the wagon.
The coachman called back, and asked if either of us were ready for a lesson to drive. I leaned forward and watched as he maneuvered the horse around some bumps and how he slowed down and went over the unavoidable potholes. I watched as he worked with the horse and not against it. He explained that it was important to maintain control at all times – if you release the reigns even a little, the horse would run off and do its own thing and all of your authority would be gone - it is very hard to regain that control once it is gone. It was extremely important to stay focused on the road ahead of you and never to look behind you. I remember how sick I was of looking where I had been I knew so that was not going to be a problem. The final word of advice that coachman gave me would stay in my mind forever. “If you feel like you are falling, stop, take a break and readjust. DON’T EVER GIVE UP! DON’T EVER JUMP OFF! AND DON’T EVER FEEL LIKE YOU CAN’T DO IT…YOU CAN!!”
We pulled into a rest stop. The coachman jumped off the wagon, handed me the reigns and told me to be careful and remember everything I had learned. I thanked him and slowly pulled out of the station. I was a little unsteady so I figured a nice slow pace was best. The end result will still be same, it doesn’t matter how fast I get there, just as long as I remember HOW I get there. Slow and steady. I talked with my friend who had finally moved up to the front with me. It seemed easier with her there next to me. We took turns driving, and we relied on each other’s strength when we felt weak or unable to stay in control. I wanted to quit a few times, but my friend talked me into staying with it, as I did for her. She also reminded me to maintain a slow pace and that it would be easier to stay on the path if we went slowly.
As I drove down the path it seemed to get easier. The bumps were still there – some were easy to steer clear of and some were unavoidable. As long as I stayed in control I didn’t lose my balance as often – I learned how to handle the rough road. I prepared myself, took a deep breath and passed over each dip in the road, one at a time. Eventually I got used to it and always tried to be prepared for the unexpected. The path got smaller sometimes; that’s when I went slower and needed my friend to help me steer. The path also opened up a few times, which was fun, I actually let the horse run, but not for long, I didn’t want to lose control.
As my friend and I went down the path together, we picked up some others on the way. Some were sitting on the edge, facing backward and clenched to the wooden frame. Some sat in the middle watching out where we were going, and only held on tight when they had to. Some rode up in the front and got some driving tips from me. And some, well they fell off – I hope they get on the next wagon that passes.
I finally woke up and realized where I was. I was home in my bed trying to start over – again. I want to be in the middle of the wagon and eventually in the front. I want to be ready for the potholes and bumps, and try to avoid them, or at least prepare for them. I want to see where I am going and not where I have been – heck I was already there, why do I have to see that again? I want to see the next thing, the new thing, and the grand finale. I finally know where I want to be, do you?
