Control. Seems to be everyone wants it, but when you have it, it renders us debilitated.
I like to have control over everything around me. I want to know when things are going to happen. I want to be prepared for the earthquake or disaster. I want to be all-knowing. I like it when I know everything. That way I’m safe.
I like to picture myself in the center of a circle, holding all the necessary weapons, just in case, so I can ward off anything that comes my way. I like to have all the cards.
I live every day like this and it’s exhausting. I’m constantly preparing for the worst and then being relieved when it doesn’t happen. If it DOES happen, I’m prepared….because I’ve been diligently planning and controlling all outcomes. I am one of maybe forty-three people in the Universe who wants to know when they are going to die. You know, so I can plan my outfit, get all my affairs in order before I go, say my goodbyes, clean up after my dog, and clean my fridge.
Why is this a thing? Why am I so obsessed with having control over everything? Why can’t I flutter through life and take it as it comes? Why do I need to know the outcome of everything, or plan for its’ demise instead of just living?
No matter how many times I try to control the world around me, it is very well known (and plastered on psychiatrists’ walls around the world), our center of control is one person and one person only. You. Me.
I have no control over what anyone else is going to do, and no amount of yelling at them, explaining to them in precise detail, emailing them (twice), or texting them (three times), will help sway their decision to one that I want. It is, however; an excellent way to set myself up for disappointment and live in fear.
I can’t control you, or him, or that group of people, or that child’s parent. I can control myself. I can control my reaction.
Control. Seems to be everyone wants it…..I don’t want it anymore.