Controlling the Uncontrollable – An Exercise In Futility
I’m writing this as a self reminder, although I’m sure you could use one too.
Let this salvage your week or at least your Saturday.
I cannot control the traffic or the way other people (idiots) drive.
I cannot control the cable guy, the electrician, the handyman, the trash picker-uppers, the tree trimmers, the guy who’s making my latte, or the air conditioning repair guy. I cannot control the time they will arrive (which is NEVER inside the promised window) how well they will perform their task, or what personality traits they posses, (too chatty, too pissy, too flirty, too…)
I cannot control anyone, or anything about the DMV. Period. End of story.
I cannot control the weather. I can have every app, and alert, but it will seldom cooperate when I hold an event outdoors; and I NEVER have an umbrella or sweater when I need one.
I cannot control my dogs or any animal for that matter. I can guide them and train them, and make suggestions, but they all have minds of their own and there will be slobber on my white walls, water and/or muddy footprints all over my wood floors, and fossilized vomit next to the bed. It’s inevitable despite my best intentions. This goes for children as well.
I cannot control my spouse, or my family. (See above).
I cannot control the government, the postal system, the medical system or the educational system. But I can vote.
I cannot control bad grammar. Their-there-they’re. Its-it’s. I could care less, It’s a mute point, ugh
Dear God, make it stop.
I cannot control the speed or dependability of my WiFi connection, although I still think if I yell obscenities loud enough, it will be shamed into complying.
I cannot control my hair. Where it grows, what color it wants to be, and it’s texture. It’s time to give up the good fight.
While I’m at it, I cannot control eye wrinkles, cellulite, lip lines or dark under eye circles, so I’m done letting Madison Avenue sell me the snake oil.
I cannot control how my garden grows. I can fertilize, weed and trim, but it has plans of its own to which I am not privy.
I cannot control aging. It has a superpower called gravity, and the combination are unbeatable. I surrender…you bitches.
I cannot control what others think of me. It is impossible.
I can carefully cultivate my image; but one false move, one bad outfit, snarky comment, or piece of spinach in my teeth and all that hard work is shot to hell.
I cannot control the manners of others. When a man lets a heavy door slam in my face, as I exit a building right behind him; instead of jumping on his back like a crazed spider monkey…I send him love.
I cannot control what’s happening on the planet. Too many moving parts. (Which is true for all of it – everything in life.)
What I’ve discovered is this: ALL of my suffering comes from thinking that I can control things. I (we) cannot.
But here’s the one thing I CAN control – my perception and attitude. That’s it.
I can control ONLY my own energy and what I bring to the day, to the table, to every situation I encounter – even to the mirror, and THAT can change it all.
As my mom used to say when we were fighting with each other, as kids, “You just pay attention to yourself – watch where YOU’RE going.
Enjoy your weekend!