The Art of Crashing Out

I’m doing so great.

No, really, I am.

It’s just that…well, I’m impatient. I want things to happen in my timing, in my way, in my particular vision. Just like that. Control is all I ask for.

Like, no, Source, you don’t have to do this thing for me, I’ll manufacture it…yeah, just scooch to the side, and I’ll determine how it happens. Like, I need that, ya know?

Control. I need it.

And when I don’t get that control…I crash out.

With crashing out, I have to let it just happen, because I’m both crashing and burning out at the same time. 

It’s like a collision in a super dramatic action movie…the one where the cars explode for ABSOLUTELY NO REASON. The gratuitousness of it—yes, that’s me.

Except I’m not exploding for no reason. I’m crashing, burning out, and then cooling down, because after the cool down, I reach a resolution I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t allowed myself to essentially lose control of whatever situation I’m trying to dominate.

Crashing out = losing control.

I hate it.

I also love it.

There’s a wild freedom that occurs in the midst of the spiral…an acquiescence to life and its ups and downs.

It’s relinquishing control.

Giving up.

Letting go.

Waving the white flag.

It’s admitting that I don’t have the answers, don’t know the answers, and some things are not in my control.

There’s peace after the crash-out when everything is smoking, and the fire is gone, and all there’s left to do is salvage what the fire didn’t take.

There’s gold under what’s been burned away.

Pure gold.

Of course…there’s an easier and saner way to find that gold, lol.