I know it appears I am staring incoherently as I attempt to process the meaning of the jarring words I have just heard. I understand what is happening; likely better than the specialists surrounding my bed, uttering conciliatory words and promises. These well-intentioned men and women are determined to make me whole again. It is not an issue of understanding or coming to terms with the predicament I find myself in. It is a matter of losing control. Behind my stupor is a type of awakening; a dose of reality. Being in control is a farce.
Oh, we certainly have our in-control moments. We pat ourselves on the back when we curb an urge to engage in harmful behaviors or when we make decisions that result in positive outcomes. When life is going well, we believe it is to our credit. It is when things truly fall apart that our lack of control becomes evident. Despite the harsh reality, the acknowledgement brings me peace. You may say that I have gained control over my emotions. I call it resignation.
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