The illusion of control

Accepting you don’t have control, is how you regain it.

Firstly, thanks to you who subscribed! I am honored you are here.

The days leading up to the launch of Subtle Lessons was rough. You think you’re just writing a little ol’ newsletter on your thoughts, and it ends up being cycles of resistance, surrender and ego death. Now that I’m on the other side, I feel more connected to myself and you. Worth it.

I assumed writing the second post would flow like water, with the pressure of the first one out of the way. You already know. It didn’t. Throughout each day, I caught myself drifting into incessant thought about potential topics to write about. But then instead of deciding on a topic, I began to worry about setting a foundation, chronological order of posts, cohesion, marketing strategy, the reader experience, blah, blah, blah. All hope of that effortless flow quickly hardened into overwhelm.

Today, as I sat still in my chair, preparing to write, with eyes closed, I observed the flurry of overwhelm arise. But this time, I also noticed the tight grip of control directing my thoughts.

Ya girl, doin’ too much.

Meet—the Planner. She’s often praised as responsible, strategic, and conscientious. But highkey, she’s constantly panicked and obsessed with control. She is an expression of my perfectionism, plagued by analysis paralysis. Uncertainty is her arch-rival. This conditioned part of my ego began taking form in high school and only increased in power and proficiency over time. She shows up ready to over-plan everything from blog posts to workout routines to family outings. Let’s get to her origin story… 

Growing up in a home affected by drug addiction, you quickly learn control is the main concern.

My dad had no control over the compulsive urges to escape his pain. My mom and I had no control over his behavior and the emotional and circumstantial consequences that followed. We were not prepared for the anguish, sorrow, rage, helplessness, fear, confusion, loneliness, anxiety, unease, and utter hopelessness in response to abandonment for days/weeks/months at a time, the loss of his job, the continual lying, our cars being stolen or impounded, the financial desperation and sacrifice to keep our head above water, calling the morgue to confirm if he’s been found dead, the nightmares, pulling up to a shoddy motel to give money to some dangerous stranger he owes, or the annoying questions from family about why he does it.

Faced with this level of uncertainty and loss of control, what did we do? We attempted to regain control, at all costs, including our own well-being. The Planner is in overdrive— constantly calculating, manipulating, scheming, bribing, strategizing to grasp some sense of safety to avoid the pain of uncertainty.

He steals the car → Hide the keys.

He squanders money → Take over the bank account and finances.  

He disappears → Call him at work to make sure he made it.

He vanishes when he’s sad → Suppress any negative emotions, quickly forgive and dote on him when he returns.

He abandons you → Perform being the perfect daughter to prove you’re worthy of him staying.

The illusion of control.

And guess what y’all. It worked! These attempts to bridle my dad magically changed him and we all lived happily ever after. I kid. In reality, the more you double down on the illusion of control, the more out of control you feel when the outcome doesn’t pan out as you so desperately need. A fundamental truth we all know and may take years to learn: you can’t change people.

Codependents are addicts too. Our drug? Control. And typically, it can take just as long, as the “real” addict, for us to awaken to our destructive habits of addiction.

Most people have heard of Alcoholics Anonymous or Narcotics Anonymous; they are global, community based organizations that provide support to addicts in recovery by working the 12-step program. Because we are relational beings, addiction isn’t an isolated experience. Addiction affects the entire family. AlAnon and NarAnon are support groups that help the loved ones of the addict recover from codependency, also working the 12-Steps of NarAnon.

Back in March of this year, I followed an intuitive call to begin attending a local NarAnon group as support in my recovery. Believe me, I was highly resistant at first, thinking myself superior. An exception. For years I’ve touted myself as being relentless in the pursuit of self-improvement, healing, and spiritual growth. Pride is a strong delusion that makes you believe you are not human and subject to the pain, mistakes, trauma, lows and pitfalls that are inevitable in this life. I realized the shallow inner healing I had done over the years was an attempt to prove I didn’t need substantial healing in the first place. The prideful resistance of my pain and denial of the condition of my heart kept a much deeper level of healing at bay. That fall, the one that comes after pride, plummets into humility.

By attending weekly NarAnon meetings and sharing my story with you, I get the opportunity to walk in humility, accountability, and re-focus on the one thing I can control, Myself.

In closing, I share with you the Serenity Prayer. We open each NarAnon meeting by reciting it together. (If you’d like more information on NarAnon or AlAnon – visit their website to find local support groups in your area.)

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.