Controlling life's impulses

Some time ago, I saw this video of Jim Carrey talking about little impulses that we all feel and I never felt less alone than I did in that instant.

I will just be sitting, sipping my coffee when out of nowhere, my brain says, "You should just pour that sweet caffeinated goodness over the precious keyboard of your laptop."  As we all know, liquid and electronics are not friends and I s-l-o-w-l-y place the cup down.  My problem is that then some irrational recess of my brain lights up and now it's gone from a simple impulse to an all-out fear that somehow my psyche will short circuit and some ridiculous crazy person will leap forth from my head, take control of my body and reenact Singin' in the Rain with my morning cup o'joe.  Then I sit wary of the mug on the table, scared shitless that I don't have the mental control to take a sip and put it back down like a normal person.

I experience thoughts like this daily:  irrational impulse, play out scenario in my head with full cinematic audio and visuals, fear I might actually follow through, avoid initial trigger like the plague.

Driving down the highway like a normal law-abiding citizen
"I wonder how it would play out if I just took up two lanes instead of one."
"Holy shit!  I would get in a crash and then lose the ability to move my right hand, and I haven't learned how to write with my left hand yet and I can't operate my phone with my left hand yet either, and then I won't be able to call for an ambulance and then I'll just die on I-95 and end up being that crazy woman that went and got herself killed during rush hour and every person sitting in the traffic afterwards would curse me and say how glad they were that I died because I made them sit through 20 minutes of extra traffic!"
Now, staying in far right lane, driving white-knuckled, refusing to even switch lanes despite the grandma in front of me going at a steady 30 MPH on the busiest interstate on the East coast

My days pretty much switch between this and thoughts of psycho killers (kiss-kiss-say) plotting my demise.  I still like to believe that at least Jim Carrey understands me.