I don’t necessarily understand the term “broken record.” It seems like the cliche would be more accurate as a “scratched record.” Of course, the idea is that the same thing occurs over and over again. Perhaps “broken” is used to describe a situation that is too deeply scratched to ever work properly again. For a while, I thought my life and relationships fit neatly into the broken category. But I think I’m coming to realize that maybe they’re just scratched.

Over the course of the last thirteen years, I’ve found myself making the same mistakes over and over… like the proverbial broken record. I felt powerless to change my behavior. I couldn’t seem to stop myself from making the mistakes that I knew I was making. Sometimes I think we apply too much logic to life. Life is a series of emotions and experiences. Trying to apply logic to emotion is like trying to paint water. It might change things temporarily, but at the end of the day, all you’ve done is made a bigger mess.

I’m a bit of a control freak. I have the ability to trick myself into believing that I can change the outcomes of some of the major events of my life as long as I move all of the chess pieces into place. More often than not, I wind up with the exact opposite results of what I was trying to achieve. When I tried to orchestrate rain42’s success by handling all of the booking and promotion and strong-arming the guys into being more dedicated, all I did was alienate them and create resentment. When I tried to prevent Katy from moving forward with her affair six years ago, all I accomplished was pushing her farther from me and closer to the other man.

I know I can’t pull all of the puppet strings to make the world dance to my satisfaction. But sometimes I still have a hard time letting go of the things that are outside of my control. I might not move the chess pieces around, but I also haven’t completely let go of the belief that some things are going to happen whether I get involved or not. Just this week, that belief created a a pretty intense argument. The aftershocks of that argument can still be felt today. The record’s not broken. But the scratch is pretty deep.

Letting go of the chess pieces is a good first step. But my next step is to discontinue believing that the chess board even exists. As long as I believe that there is an arena in which I can potentially redirect the outcome, I’ll continue to make unhealthy decisions… for me and for those around me. I’m taking on the challenges as they come up. By and large, I’m doing better. I’m just not there yet. The trick is to focus on how I’ll handle all of the possible outcomes rather than focus on how I can siphon everything down to my desired outcome. Everything is a choice. Others are entitled to make the choices that directly impact their own lives. So am I.

I think my biggest problem in the past was believing that if an undesired result occurs, I’m left to deal with it, powerless to do anything about it. I’m starting to accept the fact that I have my own set of choices and nobody else can maneuver the chess pieces in my life. If someone else makes a decision that negatively impacts me without taking my feelings into consideration, I have a choice. I can tolerate that behavior, accept it, and move on. Or I can write that person out of my life entirely. I’ve become just callous and calculated enough to be comfortable with that decision with just about everyone in my life. My immediate blood family being the exception to the rule, everyone else in my life is expendable.

I don’t want to make it sound like I believe that the people who are close to me are disposable. Far from it. Those who I keep the nearest to me generally have my best interests at heart. What I am saying is that those who selfishly decide to demonstrate behaviors and activities that negatively affect me will be discarded without a second thought from here on out. Life is far too short to tolerate selfishness and ignorance.

I’ve kept my eyes focused on the light at the end of the tunnel for some time now. Whether I emerge into the warmth of the sunlight alone or in the company of friends is irrelevant to me. The record spins on either way. And each time through, a little bit more of the song plays. The record is scratched, not broken. Those who choose to dance away with me to the soft glow of the evening sun are the ones who have truly proven themselves worthy of my love… and I of theirs.