Control

One piece of wisdom I find myself ruminating over more and more lately is the old adage that one of the only things we really have control over is how we choose to respond to the world around us, including the actions of others.  While I completely accept and agree with this philosophy on a conceptual level, living it is an entirely different matter. I know I need to get there soon, though, if I’m to survive this transition and thrive as my authentic self.  And this, I am determined to do.  Again, easier said than done, especially for someone who's always been hyper-focused on appearances and what other people think, even people I do not like, respect, or emulate.  

Although Eric tells me this all the time, and has for years, I had one of those “ah ha” moments yesterday in therapy because I came to the thought myself and articulated it in my own words: if I am happy with myself—how I look, how I carry myself, how I act, how I treat others—why should it matter what others think of me?  It shouldn’t matter, because: (a) I have absolutely no control or influence over that; (b) everyone is entitled to their own thoughts, feelings, opinions, reactions, even if they differ from my own; (c) I have no idea, really, what others are thinking or why, and I never will; and (d) not everyone has to like me, and that’s okay—I don’t like everyone, either, and sometimes for no good reason at all… we just don’t click.  
 
One of the reasons I’ve been having these thoughts lately is because, as I’m transitioning, and I know I’m now going through an awkward phase (face and body hair is still not under control, voice is still very “male,” mannerisms still need some work, etc., etc.), I get lots of strange looks from others—at work, in restaurants, at stores, and so on—and it’s really taking its toll on my psyche; chipping away at my spirit, and diminishing my inner glow.  

But why?  The reason is: I’m letting it.  I’m allowing the actions of others to impact how I feel about and perceive myself, instead of embracing the fact that I have no control over those things. But I do have control over how I react to them.  I can choose not to give a rat’s ass, get on with my life, put a smile on my face, and reignite the inner glow.  This is definitely going to take some work, but I’m up for the challenge and will reap the benefits of letting everyone else carry their own baggage themselves.  I’m done.  And, as I am a child of the ‘80s, the graphical representation for this blog posting is a link to Miss Jackson’s pop hit of 1986, “Control.”  Enjoy…