This is the sixth entry in my Morning Drift series — a personal search and journal of gratitude, presence, and the shifting truths I find in sobriety. These aren’t polished guides or programs, just lived moments: presence, gratitude, reflections, frustrations, questions, and the daily work of finding balance.
The Balance Between Steering and Floating
It’s about 5:18 a.m. on, I believe, the 15th of October, and I’m on my way to work.
I’m thinking about control versus mitigation — mitigation meaning trying to control the possible bad things that could happen in a situation, as far as trying to control the situation itself.Sometimes I want to control everything, but I convince myself I’m just mitigating — reasoning through it, keeping it aligned with my way of doing things.
I see that as something I’m really trying to understand about myself.
All of those philosophical sayings and Stoic ideas about “It’s not the things that upset you — it’s how you let them in” are kind of touching on me. I’m trying to figure out where that lies and what I’m trying to let go of.
Ever since I was a kid, my first instinct has been to put foam on the corners — to childproof, to fireproof. That’s always been my way of looking at things: fireproofing the room before I even walk in.
I was that kid who was always blamed, always in trouble. Once, I was even accused of stealing twenty dollars from a teacher’s purse. They called my mother about punishing me, but I’d been home sick that day. No apology. Just, “Oh, okay.”
Maybe that’s when it started — trying to stay one step ahead of blame, making sure nothing could be pinned on me, nothing left unprotected.
When I go into a situation, I want to make sure everything is right — or at least what I think is right. But when do I stop? When do I let go of that?
How do I tell the difference — when I’m trying to control something, and when I’m just trying to mitigate it?
Reference Note
The Stoic sentiment above derives from Epictetus, Enchiridion §5:
“It is not things themselves that disturb people, but their judgments about those things.”
The 7-Eleven Coffee Hunt
Letting go of issues — I’ll give a silly example.
I’ve been to about five different 7-Elevens in the past couple of days, just looking for this one product called Stōk — a little caffeine additive, like a shot of espresso. I use them at work. I’ll grab a coffee at 7-Eleven, pick up five or six of those, and add them into my work coffee through the week.
Lately, though, 7-Eleven has these new coffee grinders / makers — actually really good ones. They’ve got about three or four different types of coffee beans on top. You push a button and choose if you want a cappuccino, a double espresso, caramel latte, macchiato — whatever. It grinds the coffee right there.
Instead of paying six to nine dollars at Starbucks or Better Buzz or Dutch Bros, you get it for about three bucks. You can make it your way — add cinnamon, caramel, whatever you want. I wouldn’t say it’s as good as Dutch Bros, but for three bucks, I’m all about it.
The problem is, just like ice-cream machines at McDonald’s always seem to be broken, these 7-Eleven machines are always down lately. For a good three months they were fantastic — now they’re not.
It’s like the novelty wore off for the owners or the workers. They’re high-maintenance. They need to be refilled and cleaned. So this morning, I thought I’d give it one more shot — one more stop to get me a good coffee and grab a Stōk before I head in, maybe grab a couple of them for the week.
And once again — machine is broken.
My first response? Pull up Google, maybe Yelp. That old impulse — review it, critique it, vent. But lately I’ve slowed down on that. I still like writing reviews; it was a hobby. I had over 900 of them at one point. But now, Yelp feels more like a complaint center than a community.
I actually shut my account down — which is crazy when I think about it. But that was another kind of mitigation. I was mitigating my own emotional response — not letting something as small as a broken coffee machine set the tone for my morning.
I can’t control that situation. I’ve tried — choosing one store over another, tracking which ones break most often. But still, I walk in, and the machine’s down again.
Memphis in the Morning
My dog, Memphis, has decided that now he likes to go pee around 4:30 a.m.
And I’ll admit — I’m the one who started it. When I was teaching him to go outside, I didn’t want him getting too used to the yard. I’m moving into an apartment soon, and there won’t be one right outside the door — it’ll be a short trot to the dog park and lawn area.
So now he wakes me up at 4:30. And I’m thinking, “Really? I’m usually getting up at five.”
I realize I can’t control when a dog decides he has to pee — that’s nature.
But I also figure, what’s the point of going back to bed for forty-five minutes or an hour? It’s not productive. I’d rather just go to bed earlier.
So there I am at work by 5:30. Normally I’d just be getting up, but now I’m already there.
And that’s what made me start thinking about all of this — am I controlling things, or am I mitigating an issue?
Closing Reflection — Letting the Day Be What It Is
I can’t control everything. Not the machines. Not the timing. Not the dog.
But I can mitigate what it does to me.
I can leave earlier. I can plan around it. I can let the moment be what it is instead of forcing it to match what I expected.
Maybe that’s the quiet line between control and adaptation — not trying to steer the whole current, just learning how to float without losing direction.
Some days that looks like being at work by 5:30. Some days it’s finding a working coffee maker. Some days it’s just Memphis at 4 a.m. reminding me that nature doesn’t wait on my schedule.
Either way, I’m learning that the tide moves whether I fight it or not.
Part six of the Morning Drift series — Tides and Truth: No single tide, no single truth…
Tides and Truth... 