Harnessing Your Life Alyson Richard At seventeen, few people know how the world works or put much thought into the present moment. There is often pressure to stay present and mindful of the now. As fulfilling as staying grounded can be, harnessing energy often fatigues the body and strips away character. To have one’s feet planted firmly, eyes focused on what is in front of them, hands sensing the current temperature, mouth savoring what it ingests can be draining when one is lost in past and future rumination. For a while, I was one of these people. I was drained and fatigued by the constant cycling and recycling of being in the present and being out of my body. I felt like a phantom, phasing through walls and oblivious to the sensations around me. It was as if I was living in an alternate dimension, foreign and unsettling. More than often, my body would go limp. My mouth would falter as words that were once filled with wisdom and eloquence now lacked meaning and heed. My hands and face felt numb as if I spent the whole day playing outside in fresh frosted snow. My head tingled like the sensation of pins and needles after a blood-deprived limb awakening from an extensive nap. I was wandering around aimlessly, not putting substantial thought or purpose into my daily efforts. I was a marionette puppet, with no feeling of control over my body. Someone else was pulling the strings of my life. Although the loss of control was unpleasant, I never fought to regain full access to my body. This out-of-body experience persisted since sophomore year. The bodiless experience was onset due to years of repressed trauma and emotions. I felt hopeless due to countless months of struggling to be present. There was no inclination or enthusiasm to exert my own conscious energy. My endeavors stayed settled, seemingly collecting dust. Mindfulness was a concept that seemed so far out of reach. My heart felt like a black abyss with tumbleweeds blowing about every now and again. In juxtaposition, my mind felt like a chaotic rollercoaster that never seemed to end. It was simple to accept these new unfulfilled feelings that succeeded my temple. My body was out of tune like an old guitar with broken strings. I felt hopeless, unfixable, worthless, and like a burden. I desired the old me, the me
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that could comprehend the fundamental but exceedingly complex senses. I missed the feeling of connection, love, enthusiasm, and oneness. The feelings within my soul matched that of a mediocre children’s art project. It was messy, abstract, complicated, and yet overly simplistic. My body was not a whole being, but rather a network of toddler building blocks and broken crayons. I missed the passions and joys of life, as I had taken them for granted. The past traumas that burdened my brain brought about the feelings of depression that enveloped my being. I was caressed by the dull, lifeless matter of detachment. For a moment in time, there was comfort in the gloomy misery. A connection was not an option as I soon realized I was in a state of chronic derealization. These thoughts and feelings often seem as though they’ll never go away. These thoughts feel as though they can never be fixed. It is easy to catch oneself in a state of cycling and recycling the same routines, bad habits, and thought patterns. Heavy gray waves swirl around the brain in a frenzy. Colorful and bright currents are hard to come by when facing this state of being. However, living in the present moment is achievable. Taking control of the reins of your thoughts is not as hard as it may seem. Ultimately, becoming my own best friend is what ignited the spark inside and allows me to live the life I desire. On the morning of March 15th, 2020, I was running through the same motions of my daily routine. My legs, tired and achy, walked my being over to the sink in the small, four by five-foot bathroom. I pried my eyes open, catching a glimpse of my discolored skin. The bags under my eyes drooped like that of a corpse. My pale blue eyes were glazed over like tempered glass. My limbs hung lifelessly like the dull hair that grew from my head. I looked pale, ill, and lifeless. I felt like it too. Every movement took so much energy and immense amounts of willpower. The thought of commuting to school churned my stomach. “Are you almost ready?” my mother forcefully hollered. “Y-uh-yeah. Ugh-hold on one second. I just have to grab my other shoes. I don’t know where they are!” My voice trembled as I frantically ran around my room, looking high and low for my tattered running shoes. I
