Control

Control - as defined by Dictionary.com
1. to exercise restraint or direction over; dominate; command.
2. to hold in check; curb: to control a horse; to control one's emotions.
3. to test or verify (a scientific experiment) by a parallel experiment or other standard of comparison.
4. to eliminate or prevent the flourishing or spread of: to control a forest fire.
5. Obsolete . to check or regulate (transactions), originally by means of a duplicate register.

Why is it that the less control you have the more you crave it?
I can't possibly be the only person that this happens to.

I feel like my life has been out of control since Scott's death. Like everything is happening to me and not because of me. The world continues to move and I'm just stuck hanging on to the ship as it continues to sail like some kind of nasty barnicle. Nobody listening to my cries for the ride to stop so I can get off.

I'm used to being the Captain. The girl that gets it done.
Create the idea. Set the plan. And execute with precision. It's what I've done for so long I hardly recognize life without it.
Where did my "get it done" need go? Why am I spending more time "watching" than doing?

There things in my life (like in all of yours) that simply happen. Things that are, in the truest sense of the phrase, out of my control. I used to see this as a challenge. I would stand up against the unchangeable, look it in the eyes and fight it with every fiber of my being.
It's what I did for Scott's health for years.

Years and years, I dared his VEDS to challenge me. I would sit in the waiting room outside the Rush SICU waiting for news on the latest surgery and I would mentally fight his VEDS. I didn't barter with God. I didn't beg for mercy. I pictured the VEDS in my mind and I said "Fuck You!".

I remember this past Christmas I wrote that I just wanted my Christmas morning and then I would give the latest VEDS issue it's full and proper ass kicking.
I didn't give it an ass kicking. I didn't even pinch it a tiny bit. It kicked my ass. It knocked me right down, stomped all over me and took Scott away. The stupid mother fucker. It won. It won and I lost.
I lost my fight. I lost my control. I lost my love.

I have no choice but to find them again. They are what define me.

I must rebuild the things that I'm passionate about. The things that have been sitting by the wayside.
I'm working on it.

You all know the infamous Harley job that I've been taking pictures of for the past 9 months.
Remember,

The first piece of steel being set. I was there.


It allowed me to have a very special moment with one of the people I love most.


It reminded me that I was little fish in a very large pond.


The moment finally came...


The job is finally finished.
I certainly didn't finish it. I didn't do nearly enough to help.


I may not have done enough but I've gotten to experience a few positives from the job.


My photography skills have grown immensely. This building had some unique construction challenges that I learned from.


But it was being there during the final push that really showed me what matters.


True friends forgive you when you've failed them. They forgive you when you've lost control. They encourage you to find that part of yourself that was missing.
Most importantly, they love you in spite of your flaws.

As I seek to regain control, I will also be reclaiming my title of "good friend". It's been missing as well.