Control.

Part of my problem is control. I must be in it. I must know what is going to happen, how its going to happen and I will fantasize over how it will happen, over and over and over again.

 

Let me back up.

 

In my depression, I hate to lose control over a situation. I like to know what is going to happen and how it will happen. Even if it is bad. If I know how the person is going to react or how a situation is going to play out, I am ok. But if I am wrong, I lose it.

 

I break down.

 

Case in point. I had a lovely evening with my wife, who just came back after not seeing her for 2 weeks. I got her away from the kids and surprised her with a babysitter and took her for a dinner and a movie. We ate dinner, caught up on each other after 2 weeks of just phone calls, had a few drinks. Everything going to plan for a wonderful evening. Then came the movie.

 

I picked out a movie I had seen and was raving about. My wife seemed equally excited about it. It was “my” type of movie and I had to go through my mind to make sure she would like it. “Cute, music, movie stuff?” -Yes “Are there things she wont get but will still enjoy?’ -Yes I went through my checklist in my mind. I had it planned down to the smallest detail in my mind. Where she would laugh at, what I needed to explain, how to introduce a scene.

 

Over a week ago.

 

Obsessive huh?

 

Let me explain something quickly, my wife is not an idiot, FAR from it. She has the most common sense of all the people I know. She grew up outside the country in Brazil. In college, before we dated, I spent quite a bit of time explaining a lot of pop culture references to her. She knew quite a few but I was able to fill in the gaps. I formed a faction of my mind to be mindful of what she would know. I cared for her and wanted her to be in the know on all the “inside” jokes. I hated being left out as a kid on conversations and being at a disadvantage, I have always felt that I needed to rescue her.

 

You can probably guess what happened. I obsessed over every moment. I watch her during the “moments” when she would laugh.

 

She didn’t.

 

At the end of the movie, I was crushed. How could I have been so wrong? What did I miss? I tore myself apart. My wife left with me happy to spend time with me, grateful that I set all of it up, and I was ruining the moment.

 

Because I couldn’t control her.

 

I went home fuming. Beating myself up. I took out my mini fluttershy and started rubbing her nose. Didn’t work. I finally got home. We relieved the babysitter and got the daughters ready for bed. We needed milk, so she went to the store to pick up a few things. I took this time to hold my big plushie. I took 30 seconds and calmed down. I reset my mind, and I started writing. This is the least amount of control I have. I write and let (or soon will let) other people read this. They will judge. They will criticize. I will not have any control over it.

 

And I will have to learn to let it go.

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