Hell, I tried a thousand times to live with this. My life seemingly perfect with an outer crust of smiles and lipstick. Everyone I met mentioned that I was so wonderful and how I had my ‘shit together.’ Apparently, bullshit had become an art form for me.
Kind of like that time in second grade when I didn’t have a pencil and faked my way through an entire day of school until the teacher caught on at the end. Sure, I acted like I had some portion of control. But how much control does anyone have at the age of seven? How much control does anyone have… ever?
Portion control isn’t just for chocolate cake and cocaine.
Portion of control.
It’s all in the mind.
I control my thoughts which in turn, control me. I have no control over anything else; I have not one portion of control over things I think I have control over.
Like when I thought I had control over my drinking and drugging… I started to lose it and lied to myself that I had a portion of control. Now I have control over it because I don’t do it. Eleven years and counting.
Is there really such a thing as having a portion of control? Can anyone have some control? Is it an all or nothing instance?