Ever since I could remember, my life had been organized to the tee. My mom was induced on the exact day, hour, minute, and second that she had planned on for 5 years prior to my birth, and if I had any hopes of having people over, I had to be extremely prepared. At my house, birthday parties, communions, or any type of social event we hosted was arranged weeks and weeks ahead of the actual occurrence. As a child, I never really saw my ordered lifestyle as out of the ordinary; that’s the only way I knew things. To me, life was structured, and you could know exactly what to expect at any given moment.

Because of my extremely organized childhood, when the time came for me to join The Force, I was not shocked in the least bit. Whenever anyone from our Village turned thirteen years old, they attended a ceremony where they were told if they were required to join The Force. Attending the ceremony was a custom, a routine, a tradition. It was like the rest of my life, completely, utterly and seamlessly planned. Aside from current members and Force alumni, no one knew exactly what it was that The Force did.
All anyone knew was that it was an honor to be chosen, and you would certainly not turn down the offer. Once the Force trainees were selected, government officials would haul them away for a good portion of their life. Then when they finally returned, as an ex-Force member, they were forbidden to discuss anything they experienced while away. My strictly scheduled lifestyle really helped me to adapt to this idea of being stripped away from my friends and family for what could be up to thirty years. It was something that had been planned since I was born, and in my mind there was no way to work around the predetermined.
Fast-forward three months, and I was exactly where I was supposed to be; out fulfilling the life that was expected of me. In less than twelve hours I would begin my training to become a Force member, something that I had been waiting to do for thirteen and a half years. At this very moment I knew I was supposed to feel more confident and sure of my future than ever, but for some reason I couldn’t. In fact, I was feeling the polar opposite.
Lying wide awake in the small twin bed inside of the Force Training Center, I had never felt more lost. It seemed as if the structure and planning that once held my life together was completely crashing down. Joining The Force was the most rigorously planned event of my life, and after all of the anticipation I still didn’t have the slightest idea of what I was going to be doing. All the morals instilled in me throughout childhood revolved around organization, and knowing where you were headed. Now, not only was my family stripped away, but the basis of all I had learned to value was too.

This feeling of abandonment left me an emotional and physical wreck. As I laid sprawled out on my tiny cot, thinking about what was in store for me, I came to the realization that no one will ever know exactly what deck of cards life is going to hand them. Some people “roll with the punches”, and take what is given to them in stride. On the other hand, others like my mother simply could not handle the uncertainty of not knowing what life might throw at her. Her method of dealing with this ambiguity was to plan, and plan…. and plan. My mother was never going to leave her life, or the life of anyone close to her, in the hands of fate. She believed that if she did enough planning ahead, she could completely and wholly control where we were headed.

Unfortunately, my mother’s theory and strategy was flawed. My mother could never be completely sure of what was going to happen, and there was no way she could plan her way out of my situation now. At a young age, I subconsciously picked up these traits from my mother with ease. Without knowing it, I came to conform to the expected. I never did anything out of the ordinary, in fear that it could affect the path my life was supposed to take. I never once wondered if change could bring me more happiness, or positively affect my life. At the time I thought that’s how I was supposed to live, and that it was normal. My brain was wired to think ahead, to plan, to organize. It was not capable of diverging from its path; until now.

My short time away from my family had led me to realize that I could in fact do whatever I really wanted. There was no reason for me to stay on the “right” path anymore. I had no idea what I was going to do tomorrow, or for the next few decades if I trained with The Force, and I did not like the idea of having to take every step, curve, turn, and twist alongside The Force. For the first time in my life, my mind began to churn with possible ideas of what I truly desired to do. I truly desired to take a left, when everyone else seemed to be taking a right.

Now seemed like the perfect opportunity to seize the spontaneity that I had began to crave in the past couple of minutes. Before my mind could comprehend what my body was already doing, I was halfway across the room ready to escape before my training had even begun.
I darted as quickly as I could through the abyss of darkness, using my hands to guide myself.
I pressed my entire body to the door that was in front of me, hoping that I would gain some sort of knowledge of what lay beyond it. With no luck, I quickly took the risk and swiftly opened the door, because the sooner I was out the better. With each step I took, into what seemed to be a gymnasium, hundreds of blinding white lights gradually began to reveal workout equipment that covered every square inch of the training facility. I was awestruck for a moment, but reminded myself that I should not be further deterred. I darted around and over endless rows of ellipticals, treadmills, and stationary bikes, making my way to what looked like the exit. Out of breath, and thoroughly worn out, I realized that I was wrong.
To my extreme dismay, it looked like I had reached a dead end. Determined to find a way out of this gymnasium, I decided to feel up along the wall, in search of a hidden door knob or secret passageway. However, all of the sudden, I lost my footing as I seemed to have stepped in a crack. To my surprise, I continued falling downward, unable to identify where I was and what was going on. My initial reaction was to flail my arms out and grab whatever I could get a hold of. My hands jerked around until they finally grasped two ropes, one on each side of me, I steadied myself to the ground, my hands burning in the process. Just as my body decided that it could not exert any further energy, I staggered a couple more feet and pushed myself through a door that read exit. I ended up outside and somehow on my feet. My heart pounded rhythmically along with my short quick breaths from the exhilarating escape route I had just taken.

As I tried to register where exactly I was, my entire body just about collapsed. I noticed I had harsh rope burns from falling. However, my injuries were the least of my worries, because then it hit me… I’m free. I’m free from the excessive planning and organization that held control of my life. At one point it seemed like that was the only possible thing that could hold me up, but then, I realized it was actually holding me back and tearing me down. Exhausted, I trudged over to the nearest curb, and plopped wearily down, in attempts to straighten out my thoughts. Halfway through my pondering I stopped myself and thought Why plan this now? I have the rest of my life to make mistakes, and whatever happens, I think I just might let it happen.