How much control do I really have?
The only thing I can control is my mind.
So when I get that urge to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night, and slink down to the bad part of town I avoid like the plague, I have to beat those thoughts back with common sense. I have to control them.
It’s not easy.
I blame so many people, places and things when the battle becomes exhausting in this never ending war on my sanity – my life.
I haven’t been to that place, that hell, that devil’s den of bad choices in almost eleven years.
Those thoughts blossom in my mind when I get comfortable and complacent. They sprout like sick weeds in a garden of naive flowers.
No matter how many weeds I pull or kill, new ones grow and wait, searching for that weak crack in my foundation.
Control? I have enough to keep me alive.