another kind of tea party

What am I afraid of?
Sometimes, just myself.
I don’t want to face my fears.
I would like to meet and understand them.
Facing my fears sounds like I want to annihilate them. I don’t really. One of the hallmarks of my personality is the need for control. I don’t like nasty surprises and I will do anything to avoid them. Part of my brain says if I can control my environment I will avoid some of the pitfalls that occur in daily life. I guess it’s just part of my Type A squared personality. So continuing on in that vein, I really don’t want to give up my need for control. I just want to understand why I do it and then maybe ease up……just a bit.
Does the control factor really help me avoid the pitfalls?
No.
My other fear is walking into a dark house. I will not turn off all the lights to save the power bill. No way! I have to leave the lights on so that I will not walk into a dark room. Don’t ask me what happened. I have no idea. All I know is that if all the lights are out someone else is going in that house first. However, back to control…
The control factor, or loss thereof, is probably my biggest fear. For example, I’ve hated to fly for so long because of that very issue of control. I was in a real, real bad flight coming back from San Diego and that pretty much flipped the switch on that one. I didn’t want to be 30,000 feet up in a cigar tube and find out the pilot had lost control of the plane.
I don’t like chronic illness because I’ve lost control of my body and I don’t know what symptom or problem is going to strike next. You’d think I wouldn’t like to drive because of the car accident but that’s not true at all. It’s the car accident caused the lack of control with chronic illness. Weird, how we react to different things. You would think that I’d realize that life itself has no controls but I haven’t gotten that through my thick head yet.
Control issues cause a great deal of stress. I still haven’t figured out a balance between my Type A (squared) and a Type B personality. I want to strike a balance in my old age. I just don’t know how to find it. It’s just this blasted Type A personality. Even at an early age it came out with my records and shoes. It came out with me trying to exercise control over situations and my body. The infamous potato chip fiasco comes to mind. Why my mother EVER let me carry a glass bowl filled with ANYTHING is beyond me. Grace was not my middle name; it still isn’t. Anyway, I was carrying this glass bowl and tripped. Potato chips flying, people hysterical, blood everywhere and all I want is “to see me bleed.” Everyone else was out of control, but me? Not only no, but hell no. Oh, by the way, I was four.
I think we are born with certain traits and life experiences bring them to the forefront. A loss of control makes me feel imperfect and weak. I hate that! I shouldn’t use the word imperfect; maybe, what I’m realizing is that I’m not as strong as I like to think I am. I truly am an imperfect being and imperfect means to fail. It’s the bar that I set for myself and it’s a bar that can never truly be reached. I can count every single one of my imperfections and I hate that too. All of these little issues makes me realize that I can’t count on myself physically and sometimes even count on myself emotionally.