getting ok with that out of control feeling

I was harranged by difficult ideas yesterday night and this morning at work. I persisted and kept the faith that

things would change and life would reveal a silver lining and some kind of nugget of sense that would carry me through

and give me firmament to stand on.

As I drove home I was open to the natural transition that comes from thinking about work and everyone there, to being

on my own in the world and how I define myself within those set of circumstances. In fact, I asked myself "What am I doing here?" when prying at away at wisdoms and thoughts..It finally ocurred to me that I am trying to define my boundary.  That 'light bulb' moment made things really clear to me as I set about being at home. I felt 'more control' and less impulsive about my decision of what I was doing, eating, drinking and engaging in.

Though as time wore on, things muddied but I tried to keep the faith and went on FaceBook. The fatigue that I started to feel

really made me feel like an outsider to society at large - but even to my own life. Like I can't effectuate my life so well...and as though I was like out of control because I just kind of seem willowy thin and kind of on the outskirts of myself as well.

I am learning to give up to this sense of out control with a sense of acceptance. I know that I have this condition, and do have an excellent group of friends I keep in touch with. And though I may feel like my center is not me in my life I can appreciate my life in all humility. When I feel that sense of out of control I can muster the attitude of gratitude, to move on with the plans I have made and keep order to the things I can to some extent control. So I guess with 'getting ok with that out of control feeling' - though in the past I have tried to really control and sequester myself from public things to catch up to myself - now I am learning to just accept it - and for what I can make of it, things, my day. :)



"Control Freakitis" is a chronic condition in my personal psycho baggage car. That drive to be *In Control* takes over my psyche and turns me into a raving maniac. "That was 3 more breaths than you are allowed per minute, doggy dear. No, you don't get to bite my hand for holding your nose when you exceed breath allowances."

The question of control is a big subject in an Arfian psychosis. . . Where'd I leave my soap box? ? ?