THE ROAD TO SURRENDER

By: Lauren Hardy

To Alex, who has showed me what real, unconditional, and devoted love looks like. I know this will sound clich, but I truly dont know where Id be without you. To my sister, Ashley. You are my best friend, and I miss you so much it hurts. Please move closer someday! To my Gramma Taska, whom I admire with all of my heart. You are the finest example of a woman of God and beautiful inside and out. Im so glad Ive had the opportunity to get to know you better. Our lunch and coffee dates are some of my favorite memories. And to my parents thank you for believing in and supporting me, even when I was lost and defiant. You are great parents, and I love you.

y dads eyes burn a hole in my forehead as I sit down at the dinner table. Mom, can you bring me a napkin? I forgot. You have two legs. You can go get it yourself, Dad says before Mom has time to answer me. I never looked forward to dinner, but for once Im excited because Mom made one of my favorites, Chicken Teriyaki. When its time to pray, Dad finally casts his gaze away from me. I sigh in a moment of relief. He mouths the same prayer we repeat every night and begins to eat, only looking away from me when hes ready for another bite. I wonder what I did to deserve such scrutiny. His eyes watch my every move with a hawkish intensity, cautiously waiting for me to do something wrong. I hesitantly grab my knife and cut into the stick of butter. Stop! What are you doing? Youre not cutting the butter right! Watch, he points, demanding I pay attention to his demonstration. You cut away from the stick, like this. You have to make sure you sweep your knife up so you dont leave a smudge on the dish. For Dad, who had worked from a young age to help support his family, not doing things right led to more than failure. It led to shame, embarrassment, and potential ruin.

The Road to Surrender

Does it matter? I am close to exploding on him, and I really dont care about the rule anymore. All I want to do is eat my food in peace. Yes, it does, he says quite matter-of-factly. Why cant you be appreciative when Im trying to help you? These things matter. Oh would you two knock it off! Mom interjects, startling us both. On the rare occasion that Mom intervened during our tiffs, she didnt say much. She had given up on changing Dad a long time ago. Excuse me, Jennifer. No. Lauren knows there is a proper way to do things. Shut up! my older sister, Ashley, screams, hopping out of her chair. It doesnt matter! None of it freaking matters! Clearly, she had already reached her limit of bickering for the night. Dad stands up and rushes over to her. Ashley Marie Hardy, this is not your house. You and Lauren are guests in this house, and so long as you are guests, you will do what we say. Ashley stays silent, knowing better than to put up a fight. If she wasnt going to say something, then I surely would. We arent guests. Were your daughters for crying out loud! I shout and stand to meet him. Its only ever about doing things right with you. Enough! Go to your rooms! And dont you dare backtalk me again, he yells. Ashley and I run upstairs, and he retreats to the basement, slamming the door behind him. We have to do something about this, I whisper to Ashley. Hes never going to change. When are you going to understand that? You cant change other people. Like Mom, she had also given up trying to change Dad. She knew there were more important things to worry about. Well you can be a quitter, but Im not going to keep living like this. I cant! We have to believe that we can change him if we just keep trying. You dont get it, Ashley pushes past me, back toward the stairs.

Lauren Hardy

I try to stop my sister from running out the door, but shes too fast for me to catch. Ashley, please stay with me. Dont run away! I squeal. Just think what Mom and Dad will do! This is not up to you. You said you cant live like this, well neither can I. And you know what? I dont have to, she grabs the handle, slamming the front door behind her quickly before my parents realize whats going on. Dad comes upstairs as the door closes. After realizing what rebellion has just taken place, he starts yelling again. You girls have no idea how lucky you are or how good you have it. And this is how you treat me? You are so ungrateful! I never disagreed with my father. If you dont want to respect my rules, then, heck with you! Like his own father, Dad never explained himself, and we knew better than to question him. I dont know much about my Grandpa Hardy, who died when I was 14, but I do know that although he was a good father, he was also strict. Dad told us stories about how he used to beat them with a belt if they didnt finish all of the food on their plate or disobeyed a rule. Grandpa, who had been through the Great Depression and fought in World War II, wanted to teach them to value possessions and respect rules. His opinion was the only one that mattered. Even when Dad was asked at the age of 12 to work long hours picking cherries and driving a tractor for an allowance, he didnt whine or complain. He was a Hardy, and Hardys were better than that. After Dad got married, he promised to do whatever he could to guarantee his family wouldnt have to live so frugally. He didnt want us to suffer the way he had. He wanted his daughters to be successful and leave a mark on the world, like he had once tried. For Dad, what mattered was being in control and following the rules. But all I ever wanted to do was wear shoes in my own house, eat on the couch and run barefoot in the backyard without getting yelled at. I want to go find my sister. I want to join her, get out, and be free.

The Road to Surrender

Before I can think about the consequences, I run for the back door, past the shed, past the neighbors dog, across the county road and rolling grass hills and into Wynstone, the neighborhood where my sisters best friend, Kylie Kern, lived. I cant blame her for leaving. If my friend Madison lived any closer, I probably would have run away, too. *** In the basement of the Kerns house, my sister and I tremble in fear. While running away sounded like a good idea at first, were not so sure of it now. We dont know what will come of our actions, nor do we want to find out. After Ashley grabs the last tissue in the box to blot her tear-stained face, Mrs. Kern runs upstairs to get another. Now, tell me, what did your dad say to you that was so hurtful? she asks, coming down the stairs again. He called us guests. He said we were guests in his house, I say. I want to say more but my shaking body wont let me. Oh honey, you know thats not true though, Mrs. Kern hands me a tissue. But you should have seen his face, Ashley says as she stares blankly at the wall, playing everything back in her mind. She was always introspective like this, analyzing every aspect of a situation after it happened. She preferred taking time to think things through. Suddenly, the telephone rings. Hello? Mrs. Kern answers as she takes the phone off the hook. The next minute passes slowly as we watch her eyes narrow and turn their attention toward us. Uh huh, she says. Okay. Yes, I see. No, of course. I will, right away. She puts the phone back on the wall and her shoulders rise with a deep breath in. Girls, Im afraid that was your mom. You need to go home, she says through closed teeth.

Lauren Hardy

Mom was embarrassed by our actions. She worked tirelessly as a full-time X-ray technologist and devoted mother. She strived to keep Ashley and I in check, but she also ferociously loved us. All she wanted was for the family to get along, as we did in our younger years, when an argument on the playground was the only bickering that took place. But those days were a thing of the past. Her frustration with her husband and rebellious daughters had reached an all-time high, and she didnt really know whose side to take. She needed the drama to end, but we werent about to give it up. Im not going back there, I say, shaking my head. Wed only managed to stay in hiding for about 20 minutes, which wasnt even enough time for us to process our thoughts. Im happy to lend an ear, but I will not get in the middle of this, Mrs. Kern says. Your dad is coming to pick you up in five minutes. I suggest you are ready to go when he gets here. Im sure he didnt mean what he said. We walk to the driveway and I stare blankly into the sun, resenting all the rules, yelling and screaming that controlled my familys daily life. My sister claimed we didnt have to live this way, but with Dad moments away, it sure didnt seem like we had any other option. Seconds later, Dad pulls in the driveway and quickly hops out of the car. Im really sorry about all of this, Mrs. Kern, he says. The girls and I had a slight disagreement. Im sure youll work it out, Mrs. Kern looks first at Ashley, then at me. With his hand gently on our backs and a warm smile on his face, Dad helps us climb into the car, as if wed never run away. The car ride home is silent. I can hear Ashley breathing beside me. When Dad opens the garage door, we enter the house and slip off our shoes. We dont talk. We wash our hands, put our slippers on, and go straight to our rooms our familys definition of working it out. After the basement door shuts, he opens the door to his music studio, admiring the guitars that hang on the wall before he chooses one to play. They remind him of another time and another life, where control and order didnt exist: when he was 25 and in

The Road to Surrender

business with his brother. The year was 1979, and Dad had an idea. Inspired by the drummer in his after-work band, he started inventing products for musical instruments. Word spread of his work, and buyers started contacting him. The problem was, he didnt have enough money to purchase all of the resources required to fill the orders. He needed a financial backer to help, so he called his brother, who assumed 51 percent of the company, Silver Street Guitars. Things were going well famous musicians were playing and endorsing his instruments until the economy took an unexpected turn. The salary Dads brother was paying him wasnt enough, and he was forced to work multiple jobs. During they day he worked in factories. In the wee hours of the night he built guitars. Unable to stay afloat, he asked for a raise. But instead of giving him more money, his brother kicked him out of the company, telling him, I own you. From that moment, the next 15 years of his life were a series of choppy waves. Every time he regained his balance, things fell apart. Hopping from one job to the next, Dad never knew where he was going to end up. Even when he married Mom, he was unemployed. Things were spinning out of control. He picks up his ukulele, sits down on the couch and begins to strum lightly like he does every night, letting the memories fade away. He never wants his girls to face what he had to. And if that meant he needed to control them, then thats what he would do. It was for their own good. *** Although he felt they were for my own good, throughout the next two years leading up to my senior year of high school, Dads rules drive a wedge between us. He sees each act of disobedience as an act of disrespect, but Im struggling to keep tabs on everything I need to do. After being grounded for sitting on my feet at dinner again, I make plans for my first weekend of freedom. Since Ashley left for college at Purdue in West Lafayette, Ind., three hours from our home, my parents dont like me to leave the house often. Luckily, this weekend my begging pays off and they let me leave.

Lauren Hardy

On Friday, my friends, Ashley and Madison, and I head to Madisons house after swim practice and dinner at Taco Bell. The radio is blaring so loud, I can feel the speakers beat in my chest as we sing at the top of our lungs. After parking in the street, we run to the front door, giggling as teenage girls often do. I wipe my dirty shoes on the rug and bend over to remove them while her frantic dogs greet us. You know you can leave your shoes on, Madison snickers as I take off my Birkenstocks. After all, this isnt your house. She walks into the kitchen, flipping her red hair as she turns her back on us to open the freezer. My friends knew all about my parents controlling tendencies, and they liked to tease me when I followed their rules away from home, which was occurring more frequently these days. Sorry, habit, I apologize, even though it felt like the right thing to do. I still think its funny your parents insist on having a sock house, she continues, shoving a mouthful of Oreo-laced ice cream between her lips. I cringe as she drips some on the floor. Dad didnt like us to eat unless we were at the dinner table -- dripping food was a major misstep. You know, in a way youre just like them, Madison adds. Instinctively, I grab a napkin and crouch to wipe up the mess. Maybe we should all eat ice cream at the table, I suggest. See? There you go again, Madison laughs. So what are we going to do tonight? Ashley cheerfully interrupts us. Out of the three of us, Ashley was the voice of reason. She came from a single-parent home; the younger of two, she was a tough cookie, go-with-the-flow kind of girl. When things got heated between the fiery Madison and I, she was always there to fan the flames. I dont know, watch a movie? Madison motions to her familys DVD collection. We just got The Hills Have Eyes. That could be good. Isnt that rated R? I ask, lowering my voice.

The Road to Surrender

So? Nobody cares, Madison rolls her eyes. She doesnt understand my wariness. R-rated movies were off limits at my house another one of my parents rules that was, as they liked to tell us, for our own good. Well, I dont like scary movies anyways. I dont want to watch it. My response is automatic. Oh, come on. Dont make a big deal about it. Live a little, she nudges my side with her elbow. Id rather not. Its not right, I sigh. Better safe than sorry anyways. Whatever. Like I said though, this isnt your house. You just need to relax, Madison reminds me. To her family, rules were more like guidelines. At Madisons house, anything was fair game. It was the exact opposite of my living situation. Before picking a movie, we decide to have a dance party in the middle of the living room. All smiles, for the first time that day Im not uptight or worried about anything. And then my phone rings. Hello? I answer. Yes, Lauren? Mom says on the other line. Uh huh? What do you need? Im with friends, remember? I say gingerly. Its time to come home. I look at my watch and blink as I read the time twice: 8:45 p.m. Why? I thought we agreed I could spend the night. And we just got back to Madisons house. Cmon Mom, please let me stay. This is a non-negotiable issue. Come home now, or Ill get your father involved. I hang up the phone and sink into Madisons living room couch, feeling helpless and defeated. Sorry guys, I say while staring at the floor, realizing that I really was the only one who had taken their shoes off. On the drive back, I wonder if Ill ever escape the chokehold my parents have on me. Thinking about my shoes, I wonder if Madison is right. Maybe

Lauren Hardy I was already a control freak, caught up in always doing things right, just like them.

*** How dare you question me in front of your friends! Mom is standing by the front door when I get back from Madisons. She crosses her arms and purses her lips, waiting for an explanation. I notice all the lights in the house are still on. I figured she had ordered me home because she wanted to sleep, but my parents werent even getting ready for bed. I wasnt questioning you. I just dont understand why I couldnt stay and have fun with my friends, I say as I enter the living room. Its not like I do anything here anyways. We eat dinner, argue, Dad goes downstairs and plays his guitar, and you read the newspaper. Its the same thing, every night! The bottom line is, I asked you to do something, and you tried to get around it. That is not acceptable behavior. She cant see the iron-gripped hands I feel tightening around my neck. As she walks toward the basement door, yelling for Dad to come up, I know they are about to squeeze tighter. Disrespecting Dad was one thing, but disrespecting his wife was a whole different ball game. His commitment to protect the things he loved was as fierce as his need for order. Do I hear you disagreeing with your mother? he asks. I was just trying to understand why I needed to come home, I say. What is there not to understand? You were given an order, and thats that. His words terminate any rebuttal on my end. He asks for an apology, and I oblige, shocked when he and my mother end our conversation with a hug. Dad pats my head gently and brushes my brown, curly hair. We love you, he pauses for a moment to glance at my feet. Now go put your slippers on. I slouch up the stairs as he returns to the basement to play his guitar. Wed avoided yelling at each other, but the conflict between my parents and me was still as real as ever. I reach deep into

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The Road to Surrender

my coat pocket and flip through my phones contacts until I find my sisters name. Ashley? Help me I begin. Sis, whats up? Im studying for a test right now. Im so confused. I dont understand why everything continues to be so difficult with Dad, my voice trails off. I long for her to give me answers. What have I told you time and time again? she says. You need to obey what Mom and Dad ask you to do. Even if you think the rules are stupid. Think about it you only have one more year of high school. Then you can do whatever you want. Just get through high school, and keep your short fuse in check, if you know what I mean. But the rules are suffocating! I have to believe theres a way to change things. Lauren, calm down. You need to relax and stop focusing on that. The only person who is capable of changing our parents is God, or Mom and Dad themselves, she pauses. You cant control them anymore than you can control the weather. So go ahead and do your own thing, but stop trying to change them and just be as respectful as you can. We say goodbye and I curl up in my beanbag chair. She was right. I needed to stop lashing out and just do what my parents asked for the time being. After all, I only had eight months until college, when I could finally take control of my own life and leave all this behind. *** Now that there was an end in sight to living with my parents, it was easier for me to keep my temper at bay. And then there was Alex Gaskill, the man Id been dating since October of my senior year, whom Id fallen madly in love with. The first day we spent alone together, walking through the local park, changed my life. Id asked him to help me with a photography project for high school because I needed a subject other than myself to be in the shots. What began as a simple stroll turned into

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a much deeper discussion as we ventured farther into the woods. At the time we werent dating, but that didnt keep Alex from showing his affection for me. Toward the end of our walk, and before we said goodbye, he kissed me out of the blue. Youre beautiful, he told me. And just like that, all of my cares vanished. Alex had a knack for calming my high-strung tendencies, and he treated me like someone who should be valued instead of critiqued. Our relationship made me a better person; it kept me from going off the deep end when things got too hectic at home. I didnt want us to go to separate colleges, but as the summer before my freshman year at Ball State University came to a close, I had to accept it. He would live two-and-a-half hours north of our hometown, Elkhart, Ind., in Big Rapids, Mich., and I would live two-anda-half hours south, in Muncie, Ind. I was nervous about moving, but when the day arrives I can hardly keep myself from sprinting to my dorm room, even though my arms are weighed down with luggage. Dad begs me to slow down, but my feet keep moving. I could almost taste the freedom. Six argument-filled trips to and from the car later, we unpack my final storage bins. Until today, every moving experience Id ever been a part of involved my sister. The last move took place after she got her associates degree in fashion design from the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York City. Along with my parents, I helped move her out of Chelsea and to the Bronx for a summer internship, before she completed her Bachelors at Purdue. Ashley tried not to cause a ruckus, but moving days always ended in the same unpleasant and explosive way: something unplanned would happen, and everything went to Hell. Though my sister wasnt around, this time proved to be no different. Thats not how you put the bed sheets on, Lauren, Dad scolds. Do you have to make your mother do it for you? Out of some fatherly instinct to ensure all was right in my world before he left, Dad had become more and more particular in our final moments together. He wants to make sure I will be safe,

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The Road to Surrender

and the only way he can do that is by controlling the afternoons activities. My efforts to shrug it off only make things worse. It was too late; a hostile environment had already engulfed my new home. The one place I didnt want any tension is now filled with it. Dad, I cant do this. Youre stressing me out, I say. This was supposed to be a fun day. I dont want to argue with you. Im just trying to be helpful, Dad furrows his brows. But youre not helping, youre telling me how to live. That was okay in high school, but not anymore. My comments send him reeling. He tells me he is glad I am moving to college, and without another word he saunters off to the car. Why does he always have to be like that? I lean on Moms shoulder, resting my head in the crevice of her neck. Its just the way he is, honey, Mom whispers. Your arguing just makes everything worse. But I should be able to have an opinion. Exhausted from the days activities, Mom turns for the door. Well see you in a couple of weeks? For Fall Break, right? she sighs. Yeah, Ill catch a ride home or something, I smile, leaning to hug her before Im officially on my own. You know we love you, she offers on behalf of Dad, who is already waiting in the car. I watch her round the corner, out of sight but not out of mind. Our parting is bittersweet. I look out my window at the stream of students filing up the dorms center staircase. My sister had been right all of those years. I could never change my parents. The only thing I could ever worry about was changing and bettering myself. There was no way I could live the rest of my life as they did; I didnt want that kind of life for myself. The only way I could keep moving forward was to force myself to be different, to be better. And now, no one could stand in my way. *** As I organize my room, the only thing Im thinking about is what I want to do during my first day of living alone: things I would never get away with in front of Dad. I take off my shoes and rub my bare

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feet into the fluffy rug on the floor. I open a bottle of iced coffee and drink it in bed. I cover my room in a sea of decorations. I laugh when I spill some coffee on my desk. I eat dinner with my fingers. For the next few days, I cant get enough of being able to do things without worrying about doing something wrong. The second week on campus I make plans to celebrate a birthday with my new friends, The Swag Seven, as we call ourselves (Alex, Amanda, Ashley, Kasia, LeeAnn, Stasi, and I). Id met the six other girls at summer orientation, during our visit to Ball States Honors College, which we were enrolled in. I didnt want to be a part of the Honors College because it seemed boring, but my parents had insisted I join because it would make my diploma more prestigious than other students. I reluctantly mingled with the women in the room and was amazed by how normal and adventurous they all seemed rare traits for such an introverted environment. Now that we had settled into the honors dorm, we couldnt wait to finally hang out and have a good time. Our second weekend at Ball State just happened to be Stasis 19th birthday. No birthday celebration is complete without cake, but after buying the ingredients we realized we did not have a pan to bake it with. Meh, who cares?! We can just use one of those bendy aluminum pans, LeeAnn suggests. I laugh. I hadnt thought of that. It might look weird, but I guess if it gets the job done, why not! We grab the pan and fold it in half to keep the batter from spreading and pour the mixture into the horizontal section. I am amused by our craftiness, but glad that Mom and Dad are not here to see our antics -- this was no proper way to bake a cake. Equipped with blue frosting tubes, Ashley and I decorated the iced, confetti cake. For the next four hours, we eat several slices of cake, watch movies and talk about life. I look at my watch, which reads midnight, and smile inside. No one could call and tell me to come home. No one could tell me to take my feet off of the furniture. No one could ruin this moment.

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The Road to Surrender

College was everything Id hoped it would be. I dread the thought of going back home for Fall Break. It was too soon; I needed more time to be away from my parents rules so I could continue to make my own. When my ride picks me up the next weekend and drops me off in Elkhart, I dont know whether I should try to tough it out or find a friends house to crash at instead. There was always the option of hitchhiking back to Ball State, too. Before I can give it any more thought, Mom and Dad burst out the front door. With their mannerisms, you would think they hadnt seen me in 12 months, or that I was some long lost, estranged daughter. In reality, it had only been two-and-a-half weeks since they moved me in. So, tell me everything! How is college? Are you doing okay? Mom is beaming. She hurriedly takes my bags into the house and I follow, waving goodbye to my ride. Oh you know, its fine. Dad motions for me to wash my hands after I set my backpack on the floor. I roll my eyes. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Im on it. I thought wed have homemade pizza for dinner? Mom suggests. Ever since Dad lost his job as a marketing manager for one of Elkhart, Ind.s truck body manufacturers in early 2010, wed stopped ordering out. It was the most stable job hed ever had, and after 12 years of work, we still didnt understand why his position was cut. Just like the tumultuous years of Dads youth, it was something that was out of his control. I didnt mind the pizza so much; I just didnt like what it reminded me of that we couldnt determine every outcome in life. Er, can we have something else? I squish my lips together in a half-frown to show my disapproval. Your mother and I already planned on having pizza. You dont have to eat it, but that is what were going to make, Dad says. Have you forgotten its not always about what you want? Oh yeah? Well if thats the case, then why does this house have so many rules? After all, youre the only one who cares about them, I snicker to myself, thinking Ive called his bluff.

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My sister would not have been proud of my actions, but in the short time away Ive discarded her advice. College had given me a taste of freedom, and I didnt want to go back to my numbing high school days. I sit down on the living room couch and fold my arms across my chest, propping my feet up on the table to relax. Do not speak to me that way, Dad says, visibly hurt by my comment. And get your feet off the table, now. Ill put my feet on the table if I want to! I shout. I am an adult, and that means I have a choice. You dont get to order me around anymore. I turn to Mom. Now, back to dinner. How about some BLTs? I think that sounds like a much better idea. Now that Ive lived away from home, the battle for control was no longer a question of submission, but a question of power. I wanted to be in control; I wanted my parents to see things my way. Dad heads for the basement door. He wants to end the argument before any claws come out. You will not boss us around, he says. We are having pizza. The continuous bickering lingers throughout the rest of the weekend and creates a toxic environment, just like the one that was in place before my senior year of high school. Three days later, when Im supposed to go back to Ball State, Dad and I bump heads again over trying to prove who is right. I dont know whats gotten into you, but this is not the Lauren I know, he says. You are so demanding. Demanding?! I laugh hysterically. Its no wonder having a dad like you! Its your fault! All those years growing up, why couldnt you ever just leave us alone? If I was demanding, could he really blame me? So you want to be left alone? Fine. Im through with you. Out of your life. Done. Dont ever ask me for advice or support again, because you wont get it from me, Dad spits the words like venom at my face. His words intensify my anger and transform me into an entirely different person.

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I hate you! I scream over and over again, feeling my face turn purple and my vocal chords stretch as I run out of oxygen. Youre not welcome in this house! Dads voice rises to match mine. Fine! Ill go live with Gramma! She doesnt care if I wear slippers, or follow every single stupid rule. At least she loves me and will let me do what I want now that Im an adult! Dad moves swiftly to grab one of the bags I had packed to go back to Ball State and opens the garage door. He keeps yelling at me, but Im not listening. Im watching. He takes one, two, three of my bags outside. What are you doing?! Stop it! I shout, running to confront him. Have a nice life, Dad says as he tosses the last of my bags on the driveway. Im done trying to help you. Youre ungrateful, selfish, and now youre on your own. He retreats to the house and stands on the stoop where the garage steps meet the door. He doesnt look at me; he simply turns away as he presses the automatic button to shut the folding garage door. One by one, I watch the wooden planks slide closer to the ground, until the last section meets the chilling cement. I let my body sink to the ground and collapse in silent sobs. Reaching to gather my bags, Ive never felt so lost and unwanted. I wanted to be on my own, but I also wanted my parents to like me. I needed to discover who I was in the space between my parents home and my new world. I needed to become someone who was likable. *** I dont say a word when my ride picks me up. And when they ask me if Im OK, I keep my gaze fixed on the windshield. Just drive, I mutter. I didnt want to accept what Dad did, but I couldnt deny it. I was the difficult child always doing things wrong. Even as a child, my sister was easier to manage. I loved her, looked up to her and idolized her. She was the free spirit Id always wanted to be. Maybe it wasnt my parents who were the problem; maybe the

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problem was me. My cell phone vibrates seven times, all seven messages from Dad. I glance at the three paragraph texts, and when Im sick of reading them, I put my phone in the backseat. After fighting with Dad, my self-esteem has hit rock bottom. For an entire month, I dont call my parents. Instead, I think of what it is about myself that I need to change. I look at photos of my sister and I and try to figure out what separates us. In my eyes, she was the more levelheaded, flawless, pretty daughter. Maybe if I were more like her, life with my parents wouldnt be so hard. Then I would be the perfect daughter theyd always wanted. When I look in the mirror the next morning, I dont feel pretty or special; I just feel inadequate, unwanted and numb. I used to look in the mirror and admire my long, brown curls, but now I only saw a bloated belly and small chest. Getting a job at the gym only made matters worse. I started picking myself apart. Caught up in this game of comparisons, I became obsessed with doing things the way I thought they should be done. If I missed working out for a day, that was one more day to loathe my figure. If something didnt go the way I had wanted it to, it interfered with my plan. Therefore, I had to stay on top of things, making sure nothing slipped through the cracks. I laugh when my fellow Bible study members make a You are beautiful, Lauren Hardy, painting for me. Yeah right, I think. They are just saying that to be nice. God reached out to pull me closer, but I just kept running away and believing the lies. Life felt like it was me against the world. I start to work out every day, force myself to eat only certain foods at certain times, and create a schedule revolved around school and those things -- as if a perfect outward appearance was the answer to my problems. When Alex transfers to Ball State our sophomore year, Im still wrapped up in my pursuit of perfection. Though hed been watching my sadness from afar, now he was living it with me. While he and I make our way through Marsh Supermarket one night to stock up on groceries, we cant decide what to cook for

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dinner. We pass the pears, bananas and ripe avocados and I fill my cart with almost every kind of produce in sight, consumed by making sure I get everything on my list. As usual, Alex strolls aimlessly around the aisles in search of what to buy. Unlike myself, he detests lists. In the home environment he grew up in, list-checking was not a regular activity. After a few minutes, he waits for me patiently by the deli window, admiring the thick cuts of meat on display in front of him. So, what do you want for dinner? I smile at him, playfully kicking my heel to meet my hamstring. I dont know, he shrugs. Why do I even bother asking? I think to myself. Babe, would it kill you to choose something for once? Or maybe even pretend to care? You know I will make you anything. Lauren, it really doesnt matter to me. Food is food, he says. You know thats not true, I snap. All I need is for him to tell me what he wants so I can do it right. Fine. I dont know, pork chops? He points to the sets of butterflies behind the case. Okay! But what are you going to do with them? I dont know. Cook them on the stove? Thats not the right way to make pork chops. You cant cook them on the stove. I thought you asked me what I wanted? Im confused. He had finally made a decision, but I was still determined to carry out the meal as I saw fit. No matter how much I loathed my parents, their need for things to be a certain way had weaseled its way into my DNA. Like my friend Madison had predicted back in high school, I was just like them. Yes you can, I do it all the time, Alex says. But they wont taste any good, I say, my voice escalating. I can feel my face getting red, my skin tightening across my forehead, my eyebrows furrowing deep, outlining my glaring stare. At this point, my controlling tendencies are stronger than my need to be a loving girlfriend.

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Okay, jeez. Please dont yell at me. Alexs eyes widen in shock at my sudden outburst. Im not yelling at you. Yelling would be much louder than this. My sternness is undeniable. Unlike my childhood experience, Alex grew up in a family that knew how to relax and go with the flow. In the two years wed been together, I could count on one hand the number of times Id heard his mother raise her voice. Its not that his family was perfect; they just realized that some things in life werent worth worrying about or being consumed by. Last year, I was blessed to go on a trip to Atlantis, Bahamas with Alex and his mom, Heidi Gaskill. In my family, every vacation day was planned in advance. But each day in the Bahamas with the Gaskills was a mystery. We woke up without an agenda, only knowing three things: that we were going to have a good time, laugh a lot, and get a nice tan. They understood that life doesnt always go according to plan, that there isnt necessarily a right way to do things, in part because of his dads death several years ago. I tried to look to his family as a model over the past two years, but I was failing to live up to it. Please listen to yourself and the way you are saying things to me, he softly pleads, never raising his voice to match mine, like what Im used to at home. I take his words to heart and survey my surroundings. Here we are in the middle of the supermarket, a few weeks before our two-year anniversary, and I was pushing away from the man I love over a stupid argument about what we should eat for dinner and how it should be made. In my pursuit of perfection, I was caught up in these invisible rules. I had become just like my dad. I only wanted to make a nice dinner for you. But fine, get the pork chops, I wheel our cart away in anger. *** We walk to the car in silence, as if nothing has happened. Its not abnormal to me because in my family, we never talked about conflict. We preferred to move on and pretend like nothing was wrong.

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As Alex cooks the pork chops in my kitchen, his words to me are few. After tossing together a pecan raspberry balsamic spring salad and steaming corn for our side dishes, I sit on the couch and flip through my planner to make sure I have all my assignments completed for tomorrow. OK. Pork chops are done, Alex says. I spring from the couch and hurry to the dinner table, expecting to bite into a piece of shoe leather. If he had failed, I could prove that I was right. One bite into the steaming chops however, and Im flooded with regret. Alex has successfully cooked the pork chops on the stove. They were perfectly juicy, probably some of the best I had ever tasted. After dinner, I leave the room to blow my nose. But when I return to the dinner table, Alex is not there. Quietly, I tiptoe to my bedroom and crack open the door. There he was lying on the floor, clasping his hands gently across his stomach, and waiting patiently for me. Though I cant bear the look in his solemn blue eyes, I cant look away. They pierce straight through my soul and into my heart, something only his eyes have the power to do. Im so, sorry, I stutter, burying my head in his arms. A river of mascara-black tears flow from my face to his shirt, and I silently thank God hes wearing a dark color. Something has to change. His body is rigid to my touch. Youve got to stop being so controlling. Not just with how you control yourself, but others too. He pauses. I dont like it when you speak to me that way. Its not how two people in love should speak to each other. Youre not going to like this, and please dont take it the wrong way, but thats how your parents talk. This is just what Im used to, you know that. You know I dont mean things the way I say them. I just want to help and be the best girlfriend I can. Yeah, but that doesnt make it okay. We are not your parents.

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I know. I think Im beginning to understand that, I say. But I dont know how to stop controlling things, its like an automatic response. I want to change, but I need you to help me. I wrap my arms around him, and he begins to let me in. Like a time capsule, his embrace takes me back to the first time we hung out during our day at the park; the first time in my life that everything made sense, and everything felt free, safe, and okay. In his arms, what mattered in life became as clear as the Caribbean Sea. Surrounded by his family, I was okay with not having a plan, or being perfect, or being in control. I wasnt caught up in a list of rules and expectations; I was okay with simply living. I knew I could be that person all of the time, but clearly not by my own efforts. Well work through this. From now on, I just need you to tell me when I need to relax and let things go, I say. I tried to earlier today, but you wouldnt listen. I promise Im going to be better from now on. I dont want to keep speaking to you that way. Its not fair or okay. I cant keep getting upset about petty things and being so on edge. You have to understand that for me, the only thing that matters is I love you and you love me. Okay? It doesnt matter what we are having for dinner, it doesnt matter what movie we watch, as long as Im with my beautiful girl. I nod my head as he wipes another tear from my cheek. I want so badly to be able to say the same thing that all that matters in life is love, and that no amount of control could amount to the joy found in fellowship with others. But how could I speak those words with sincerity when I was obsessed with being in control? If I was ever going to make this change in my life, I knew it was time to just let go. *** I rolled out of bed the next day, feeling no different than the night before, with the exception of one thing: from that day on, I vowed to think about how and why I say the things I say, do the things I do, and want the things I want. I also vowed to respect others

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opinions, in light of my own; this included respecting Dad, who Id rebelled against for too long. This journey toward relinquishing control was and still is a long journey. And though it can be rewarding, I finally understand how hard, tiring and frustrating trying to change yourself can be. Especially when its the only way of life youve ever known. Nevertheless, the journey has sustained my relationship with Alex. When I finally stopped demanding and controlling what we did, we became stronger and happier. Laughter has replaced what used to be terse argument. As for my family, weve grown closer, too, in the time since the driveway episode my freshman year. Were beginning to understand and love each other better something I wish could have taken place before my sister moved to Salt Lake City in the spring of 2012. Its funny how much you miss people once you realize they wont always be around. I used to want to be apart from my family, but now, I wish for more moments together. Before Alex and I left for the Bahamas for Christmas in 2012, we finally had one of these moments. Ashley and her boyfriend Korey, who had just flown into Indianapolis, met Mom, Dad, Alex and I at the Kokomo, Ind., Olive Garden for a soup and salad lunch. Seeing Dad light up in the presence of both of his daughters reminded me just how much he cares for our family. As he listened to Ashley talk about her latest developments as a Design Assistant at Maggie Sottero Bridal, and me recount my latest adventures as Managing Editor for Ball States magazine, he beamed with pride. He sat in silence and awe hanging on every word as we spoke. No memory of our rocky past can cloud or take joy away from days like these. We are all still a work in progress; no one is perfect. But I also know no one is without love. *** The next morning, Mom and Dad tiptoe into my room around 4 a.m.

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Good morning, sweetheart! Paradise is calling, Dad whispers over my sleeping body. I slowly sit up and rub my eyes. Today is the day my vacation with the Gaskills in Eleuthera, Bahamas begins. I cant believe you guys got up, just to send me off, I laugh. Were driving you to the airport, remember? Mom giggles. Oh, yeah! You guys are so sweet. You didnt have to do that, I smile, hopping out of bed. Dad quickly draws me in his arms to give me a long, warm hug. Few things in life compare to Dad hugs. He may be a selfproclaimed tough, stubborn Hardy, but his gentle hugs reveal his softer side. He never lets Ashley and I arrive or leave home without one. Wish you guys could come with, I step back. Someday, we are going on a family vacation to Italy, OK? I think we might be able to swing that, Mom says. Well, we better all start saving now, I say. I try not to worry about forgetting anything as I pack my suitcase, knowing that when we load the car, Mom will go over a mental checklist with me. The Gaskills arrive and we start putting more suitcases into our SUV. Sure, enough, Mom is on top of her game. Toothpaste? she asks. Yes. Medicine? Yeah, mama. Thanks. I think I got it. Oh! More than one swimsuit? I playfully roll my eyes and smile. Yes, of course. Alex, who is standing beside me, nudges my side. Well, thats a first, he laughs. What? Usually, you would get all annoyed and start yelling when your mom does something like that. It was incredible how well he knew me; he saw straight through my reaction to whatever situation I encountered. I didnt like to be bossed around, and in the past, I would have put up a

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fight. It wasnt like me to go with the flow. Well, we know where that attitude gets me, and Ive decided its not worth it anymore. I can try to control everything; I can try to control myself. But in the end, what happiness would that bring me? I say. Exactly, he says as he grabs my hand. I step into the car and fasten my seatbelt, anxious to get to the airport. Things were looking up, not just for me, but for all of us. *** On our second day in Eleuthera, we drive the rental car to Governors Harbour to stock up on groceries for the first week. What are we going to do today? I ask Alex as we wait outside for his mom and grandma to finish checking out. I dont know, whatever we want? Here I was, on vacation, and a part of me still itched to plan and have some control over our daily agenda. Oh, okay, I draw circles in the sand with my sandals. What do you want to do, love? I dont know, I say. One of the hardest parts of giving up control has been rediscovering what I like and why. Because I was so used to abiding by a strict, predetermined schedule, its hard to separate what I like from what I always did. Im happier than Ive ever been, but still feel lost getting myself back on track. The fact I feel like I need to workout, even though Im on vacation, is a testament to this truth. I walk forward into the sand, on the other side of the street. I know what Im supposed to do my voice trails off. I didnt ask you what youre supposed to do. I asked you what you want to do, he says. How about we lay out in the sun, take a stroll on the beach, and go from there? I grab his hand. I think thats a good start. The pink sandy beaches of Eleuthera are a breathtaking sight to behold. Ive walked on the black sands of Hana, Maui in Hawaii, the scorching, yellow sands of Lake Michigan, and the

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white sands of Florida, but nothing compares to the beauty of pink sand glistening in the sunlight, or glowing in the moonlight. Its like seeing the world through rose-colored sunglasses. After sunset, Alex, his siblings and mom, and I race down our rental houses winding staircase to get to the beach. Were tired from a long day in the sun, but we run around like children at recess, marveling at how soft the sand feels beneath our bare feet. How lucky I was to be here with them. How lucky I was to have two families to share life with. How lucky I was to have parents who stayed by my side no matter how far I strayed. How lucky I was to feel so free and so at peace. The smell of brine fills my nose as I take in a deep breath of Atlantic Ocean air. Waves crash gently up and down the shore, flirting with my feet as they ebb and flow back out to sea. I squish my toes beneath the sand and wiggle them, one-by-one. If it were up to me, Id never leave this island. Surrounded by such beauty, it was easy to give my worries to God and not think about the trivial details of life. It was easy to breathe; easy to simply be. Alex had been right all along: everything was going to be okay. Nothing could ever come between this beautiful life and me. For the first time, I actually believe that. I dont need to have all the answers, or all of the power. What I need is to be okay with just being me.

z
Can all your worries add a single moment to your life? Matthew 6:27

The Road to Surrender by Lauren Hardy is licensed under a Creative Commons-Atrribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/ by-nc-sa/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 171 Second Street, Suite 300, San Francisco,California, 94105, USA. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://www.thedudeman.net. Photo by Lauren Hardy, all rights reserved.