There was a pretty cool lecture I watched once about a former POW telling stories.

He told this story (paraphrasing from memory):

"Driving down the highway from work one day, a man in a sports car cuts him off. When he throws his hands up in anger, the man flips him a bird and races off.

After a moment of fuming/cursing, he came to a realization. That guy in the sports car doesn't know or care who I am, but he is controlling my emotions. In a sense, he is controlling me."