Out of Control

Day 2 of 40

This morning I had a bit of a panic attack.  What if I don’t have an idea for the blog?  What if it’s not insightful, or at the very least slightly cleaver?  This is my second lot in life. I commit and then I panic that I won’t do it well.  As I already confessed I will do something I’ve committed to because I feel a strong sense of responsibility, so there’s no question it will get done; only the question of whether I’ll feel good about it. 

My mind quickly moves from one thought to another, so after my small panic attack, I thought about something else- the fact that I feel I’m losing control.  I’ve never thought of myself as a control freak but I’ve come to realize that I indeed might just be one- at least on some level.  Maybe this fear of losing control of my life is the very thing that keeps me from living fully. 

It’s the little things and the big things that I seem to be losing control of.  Little insignificant things like taking a group of kids to a Braves game- not even my kids, just kids I invest time in- and finding that they don’t find the need to ‘follow’ my lead anymore, but can be led by someone else. This is a prideful thing to say, but it’s true- it bugged me.  Maybe this will be a whole new thought to explore…is it pride or fear?  Pride in thinking only I can do what I do…or fear in discovering that I may not be needed anymore.  Hmm…that may be tomorrow’s exploration. But, back to this thought on control…

I begin to wonder- what does it mean to be in control of your life?  Is there any such thing? 

I think on some level there must be.  I see other people making decisions about their lives with (what seems to be) confidence.  I see others doing what they want to do- not what they feel they have to do- but actually want to do.  I hear people say they work in their dream job.  I see families so “together” that I wonder what happened to mine.  I know people who actually get time off from work- real time off when they can think about and do other things with no sense of guilt.

I know that everyone is broken on some level or in some way.  This is the world we live in- a broken one, but why are some of our lives more broken than others?  I’m not homeless.  I have a job.  I have healthy children.  I’m healthy - at least I think I am; I haven’t had a checkup in 3 years.  In this broken world, my brokenness doesn’t seem as bad as many others', so why do I feel so broken beyond repair?  Why do I feel so empty?  Why is losing control so frightening?

I know the Truth in my head- “God holds all things together” but at this point- it doesn't feel like it.  Is He still holding me in the palm of His hand?  Of course He is, but maybe all the broken pieces of my life are covering me up like a blanket…no…a pile of garbage.  He just hasn’t pulled enough trash off the heap to find me yet. 

I hope He’ll keep digging because I feel like I can’t breathe…