Are We the Antagonist in Our Story?
Updated: Aug 23, 2021
This seems like a bold statement. It triggered memories of times when I engaged in self-sabotage. There was a time I felt my journey was harsh. Then I saw the scenes of my life in a different light. All this time I thought my role was the protagonist. I was the character that kept pushing forward no matter how many doors I had to ram myself into. It would be many years later, before I could look back and see that my perception had been askew. I wasn’t the protagonist at all. I was something else.
If I were to call myself the antagonist, it feels counterproductive. Why would I be working against all that I was trying to achieve? Why would I try to sabotage my own journey? The answer was simple. Well maybe it wasn’t that simple. I have said many times the soul doesn’t play sides. There is no good or bad. There is no right or wrong. Everything plays out exactly how it’s supposed to. There is an aspect of me that knew this was true. But there was still a part of me that didn’t like the timing of events. My story felt like a slow-paced movie where there was no clear plot. How was my timeline off? I was holding up my own story. What could have been a page turner was quickly becoming forgettable.
It’s funny how much our vision improves in hindsight. The things that made no sense at the time, are remembered with a knowing that is undeniable. Yes, I had been the antagonist to my story. In truth, we always are the antagonist to our story. We are the script doctors. The pace setters. If the story feels like it’s meandering, it is. Because we are. I meandered for a solid year. There was no obvious movement. The plot was halted and limbo had begun. How did I get there? Did I miss the signs?
No, I didn’t miss them. I straight out ignored them. Yes, it still turned out exactly how it was supposed to. But I could have made things so much easier if I had been willing to let go. I was the delay. Now that doesn’t mean I didn’t get to the right place at the right time. Or shall I say in the “nick of time.” It’s my party after all. But I could have had a smoother landing. My life reset was traumatic to my human aspect. One might think that my human life crumbling was the end. It really wasn’t. It was the beginning of something else.
What was it? In this moment, writing this, I should have an answer. I don’t. The many aspects of me can’t find the word for what it was. It was a part of the story. A moment that I would dissect years later. It was the pinnacle of something but I am still not sure what. I was still working though human programming for years after the “2019” shift or shall I say “bottom out.” I didn’t start running unencumbered down the road to enlightenment.
My human had wanted all the treasures to come instantly. I didn’t understand that I had to earn those stripes. It was like a tour of duty that I had been training for but when it came to deploy, I kept postponing it. Funny how our human does that. I would rather keep running in place, instead of getting off the treadmill. Perhaps the movie To Kill A Mockingbird said it best “the summer that begun so long ago had ended and another one had taken its place and a fall. I would think of these days many times.” And I would. Especially when I see myself “digging in” on something again, refusing to deploy.
This journey calls on us to have trust in a process that makes no logical sense. There were years where my service to humanity consisted of laying in the sun and taking long walks. Did I want to be doing something else? My human did. I wanted to be doing something epic. But it wasn’t time for that. Building a foundation that was solid and learning to “sit tight” was epic in its own way. I imagine years from now, I will look back on that time I wish I was there again. Taking the kids to the playground and blowing dandelions. If I am honest, a part of me misses it now. That part of me that now knows eventually the next phase will come to pass.
My moral is not merely “stop and smell the roses.” It feels more profound than that. It’s a deep appreciation of the experience. It’s that moment where you understand why you are there and what your role is in that moment. A pinnacle is reached.
Maybe the real truth is every part of this journey is important. None better or worse than the others. All perfectly planned and orchestrated. One aspect of us plays the antagonist. While the other aspect plays the mentor. The role doesn’t matter. It feels more important to define the narrator. Which ironically changes once the scenes have long faded away. A new narrator has the power to shift those moments into something else, making our script somehow feel Oscar worthy. Now that was not the turn I expected.