Just. Let. Go.

(* I am putting this sentence wedged comfortably between these unnecessary parenthesis to say that I’m not entirely sure WHERE the hell this kooky rambling came from. I mean, it’s not like some horrible thing came along and wrested control from my steely little talons recently or anything, sheesh. Sometimes I just puzzle myself.*)

Control is a funny thing.

We seek it out constantly in our daily lives and pride ourselves on having attained it.

Control your temper, your emotions, your kids, your dog, your career. Get a death grip on your whole existence or it will slip away and then return later under cover of darkness to beat you about the head and face area.

 We are so terrified of controls cruel stepsister chaos that we would do ANYTHING to avoid her. Imagine the explosive primordial goo we’d have to scrub off of everything if wild anarchy were allowed to grow full and bloated until it drenched everything in its rank expulsions. Looting in the streets! Cats and dogs living together! Legions of id driven savages missing appointments with their shrinks and (gasp) not even calling to reschedule!

When I hear large groups of clucking gossipmongers toasting their latest victim I notice the target of their vitriol is usually some poor schmuck who’s lost a handle on something. Mr. Shamalamadingdong sure used to have it together but did you see him come unhinged? Poor bastard. That was some undignified display!

Why does passion so often get mistaken for insanity and what is the dividing line? If I’m steaming mad about something, I’d like to be able to holler at the source of my pain, not worry about how I’ll be perceived as a loose screw by the blandly calm and beige crew.

Every once in a while I take off my Matrix glasses and remember that it’s all an illusion I carefully construct to make myself feel better. The fifty personal safety classes I insisted on taking make me no less immune to that car accident or grave mistake that’s written in the future annals of things to come but I like to kid myself that it does.  Having no control sucks.

This mirage that blocks out the sharp edges of uncertainty makes us feel like we’ve got it by the horns. We are powerful and the fates dare not take away what is ours. It’s impossible to live through a lifetime and not run up against the sad truth and then succumb to it.



Filed under a really weird post on control, a screw loose, I like dogs and dogs don't care about control, maybe I'm just jealous because everyone ELSE is in control, okay that's out of my system now on to other things, this came out of nowhere

21 responses to “Just. Let. Go.

  1. dbs

    I’ve seen the sad truth but I just can’t succumb. Yet. And that’s what’s making me old and bitter.

    • Dufmanno

      I’ll take your old and bitter and see you my gnarled and desperate. See? It’s like a card game of negative emotions and consequences!

  2. You are right: having not control sucks. The question is what one does as a response to that: go insane? recap? give up?

    i use (once in a while) deep breathing… oh, and Bourbon LOL

    • Dufmanno

      Here’s the weird part. I still keep grasping for it desperately. Not because I value it but because of how I want other people to see me. Once I heard someone mention how “calm and together” another person was and that seemed like the ultimate compliment.
      Most people just say I’m unhinged.

  3. Sometimes I scream at mice with my shirt off.

  4. Tom G.

    OK, this is where I write a philosophical comment about Taoism, and how you need to and learn to use Being & Non-Being to guide you into harmony with the world around you. Unfortunately, I misplaced my fucking copy of the Tao Te Ching, which really pisses me off.

    So I’ll offer this nugget of wisdom instead. 200 mg of Fluoxetine, and 100 mg of Buproprion. It works for me.

  5. macdougalstreetbaby

    I’ve never been able to wear a muzzle. When I’m angry, it pours out of me like forewaters from a ruptured amnion. There is no stopping it. Sometimes I see myself from above and wonder, who is this crazy woman? But then, as quickly as it starts, it ends. It’s out of me. I’m not condoning the process by which I react but I do believe in the release of negativity. Pushing things deep down is the absolute wrong way to go. That’s how sickness begins.

    • Dufmanno

      Agreed. My volcanic rageathons are legendary but never appreciated anymore. I tried to argue that this primal release is in fact the healthiest way to vent but no one was buying.
      This all started when one of my sons made a point to a hysterical friend of his that he needed to calm down, shake off all residual emotions and state his case to administrators in this deadened way or they would think he was an emotional nutcase and would not take his claims seriously.

  6. I let my rage out when I am behind wheels. I remind myself of a Mickey Mouse episode in which Goofy turned psycho as soon as he sat in the driver’s seat. of course nobody ever heard of this episode and I was accused of lying. But that’s a different story.

    If I know there are things that I cannot control, I tend to just give up. On some days, I just want to not be alive.

  7. I became unhinged over a friend’s poorly thought out decision once… then I drank too much, laid on my bed repeating “I can’t control this” “I can’t control this”. Then another time I lost my marbs in an email over a dissolution of a partnership — SHOCKED that people weren’t seeing things my way. Another time my 2 best friends fought over an absurd situation which then led to me driving home to Long Island from Philadelphia at 2:00 in the morning. Etc. Etc. All in all, control and I tend to act like foaming at the mouth lunatics when our comfy existence is compromised. I’d like to think I could change this, but control has way too much control over me.

  8. Letting go scares the hell out of me. Probably why I’ve lived such a mediocre life.

  9. Tom G.

    I’m back. Not because I have anything more thoughtful to say, just because the entire internet seems to be on holiday and I am feeling bored commenting on my own blog posts.

    Letting Go: It’s only the people whose throat your hands are wrapped around that advocate this. Whiners.

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