Everyone’s the something of their life. Dictator, captain, manager…pick one. You can even pick two. You can be the manager and the dictator. You can be the captain and the manager. Either way, you’re in charge of your life. You’re the manager of you. I know it’s a cliché. I know it’s the synopsis of every self-help book. And I know it’s true and I believe it’s worth understanding because the consequences of failing to understand this lesson will cost you your life. Not by death, but something worse: life as a marionette.

Excluding the military and large organizations where most of your decision making is handled by someone else, no one can make decisions for you. You’ve decided that whatever you’re going to do today is worth your time, that precious commodity you can’t get back. Video games and beer every night? Maybe top it off with a little porn? Must be more important than anything else, otherwise you’d do literally anything else.

Who’s in charge of your life when video games and beer’s the default every night? You? Yeah, you. You’re still in charge. In this case, it’s a lower version of you that’s running the ship. A version of you that loves instant gratification. A version of you that you’ll go to bed with every night and wake up with every morning. And when you come face to face with who you’ve become after 30 years of beer and porn and Call of Duty, God only knows what’ll happen.

So, who’s in charge?

Are you in charge?

Who’s pulling your strings?

Who has power over your life? Who’s telling you what to say and think and do?

Is it the best possible version of you?

Is it the most wretched version of you?

Is it someone else?

Mom?

Dad?

Well, who is it?

Who’s in charge?

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