Control

The quest for control of one’s life is a lofty goal. But when the individual in question suffers from OCD (and quite possibly Asperger’s Syndrome, or whatever the hell they call it these days), PTSD, depression and anxiety, the quest for control is pretty much like herding cats. Feral cats. Big feral cats. Big, pre-historic, feral cats… that screech like pterodactyls and breathe fire and phase in and out of our space time continuum and… well you get the idea.

It’s hard to describe what it’s like for a control freak to feel completely out of control or worse yet, to feel helpless and completely dependent on others.

Right now I feel like there are a dozen things I want to or think I should do and they’re all spinning around me in a tornado. I’m dizzy, disoriented, out of breath and nauseous. I can’t concentrate. I start one thing and wonder if I should be doing another thing and I switch and then question that and then I end up sitting in front of my computer, paralyzed by insecurity, self loathing and doubt. I accomplish little or so little that I have to sugar coat the hell out of it to avoid feeling like a useless turd.

Take today, for example; today I accomplished the following:
I did not freak the fuck out when I felt the wave of low grade anxiety start forming inside me. YAY ME!

Don’t get me wrong, I AM proud of myself for spending the day enjoying music, a Star Trek: Voyager marathon and several dozen pet battles in Eastern Kingdoms! But… No matter how you embellish it, I still spent the day playing video games and enjoying some Netflix and chill (with 100% less sex than the average Netflix and chill).

And now it’s bed time…

Oh, I did come up with a title for my series of texts about Fibromyalgia! And I think it will also be the title of the chapter of my book that will be an expansion of the texts: Living La Fibromyalgia Loca!