the desire for control

and what it might be trying to tell us

I think a lot about control, and my evolving relationship with it. I have been especially focused on it recently as I’ve watched what feels like the beginning of World War 3 unfolding through snapshots on the news and instagram. Leaders are called to their positions for lots of reasons, and I don’t believe that every leader strives to be a dictator, but I can’t say that a hunger for control and certainty is out of the question.

There is a constant struggle for control, and it is easy for things to get out of hand. We are seeing that happen on a large scale right now, as the US has chosen to bomb Iran. But huge displays of power don’t come out of nowhere- they begin with each of us, and how we navigate our own desires for power, and for certainty.

When I am stressed and having a hard time, I notice myself wishing that I had total control of everything around me. There was a point in my life where I didn’t understand where that desire came from, and I didn’t consider that it might be a sign that something inside ME was dysregulated or misaligned. I would regularly declare, “everyone’s lives would be better if they would just do what I think they should do”. I would guess that this made me a challenging person to be around at times, and I am glad to have moved past that part of my life. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still feel the desire for control pretty regularly. I have been very ashamed of this quality throughout my adulthood, but I have come to feel much more compassionately towards it in the last few years. After all, our feelings are just messengers trying to communicate with us, and the want for control always begins with a feeling.

It is natural to want control and certainty, especially when you are an anxious person like myself. My brain believes that, if I could just gain absolute certainty, I would not have to be so hypervigilant all the time. I wouldn’t have to worry about the safety or success or happiness of people I love, I wouldn’t have to obsess over whether or not someone I meet at work is going to go to the hospital to get their wound treated instead of letting is fester and get worse, I would know whether or not something bad was going to happen on my commute, and I would be able to live in absolute full, peaceful bliss forever and ever.

Maybe that is true, that I could attain a transcendent level of peace if I could be in control of everything, but there is no world where that kind certainty will ever be possible, and so I’ve had to find another way to deal.

My relationship to this part of myself changed when I was able to stop peering in at it from the outside and instead meet it where it lives: in my body and my feelings. I have talked about it before, but putting focused effort into learning how to identify what I am feeling has changed my life. When I started exploring what I was feeling when my desire to control things got very loud, I was able to meet it with compassion rather than judgment.

On the surface, I always felt like wanting to tell other people what they “should” be doing was an act of love: if I love other people I will want what is best for them, and my responsibility is to move them in the “right” direction.

But whenever I am hit with a wave of want to control, I realized that it doesn’t feel like love at all; it feels like fear, helplessness, and hopelessness.

For me, being in a place of love feels peaceful and slow. It feels calming and certain. There is no pressure or doubt- I feel my whole body and self saying “yes”.

But when I’m in a place of fear or feeling helpless, things feel frantic and urgent, like I need to react immediately or I will not be able to cope. It feels tiring and tense. I tend to act impulsively and say things that I regret. It feels like I can’t slow down.

This realization was big for me, because it allowed me to approach this thing I was so ashamed of with curiosity instead of judgement- I had the space to ask, “I know you feel scared, what are you afraid of?” and “I can tell you’re hurting, what is hurting you?”.

The answer is that I am afraid of a lot and I am hurt by a lot. Lots of things make me feel helpless and hopeless. But knowing how I feel means I can care for myself and tend to those hurts and fears so they can move through me instead of coming out and hurting other people. Not only am I able to care for those parts of myself, but I am then opening up an opportunity to truly act from the most loving parts of myself instead of letting fear or hurt be my guides.

I had a moment this week at work when I came face to face with my want to control. There is someone I meet with regularly who is experiencing a debilitating chronic mobility issue. After a lot of work, it has become possible for this person to access pretty great care to develop some kind of treatment plan. I have been excited about this for weeks, but the participant in question just… doesn’t really care.

It’s worth pointing out that my team didn’t and wouldn’t pursue any of this without permission from this participant, but after sharing this news and offering door-to-door transportation to an appointment, we were met with a shrug and, “I don’t have time today”.

That was over a month ago. I see this person almost every day, and it is always the same response. Lots of things end up on their to-do list each morning, and they are managing their pain well enough for the moment, so doctor’s visits always get pushed off until another day.

On Tuesday I saw them again, and found myself incredibly irritated by their nonchalance in opting to postpone for the millionth time. Frustration bubbled inside of me, and I could feel myself getting tenser and tenser as I turned away from them and packed supplies gingerly into small plastic baggies, fighting my body’s desire to throw everything on the floor. I slid my fingers across the smooth plastic seal of the last ziplock bag and took a deep breath before turning around, my hands full of supplies to offer someone I love and care for so much. When I faced them again and looked at them carefully arranging and rearranging all of their worldly possessions into two backpacks (one worn on their front and one worn on their back), there was a pang of “ouch” in my chest.

There was a part of me that wished so badly for total control over the situation, to throw them into a cab and lock the door so they could receive the care I so desperately want them to get, but I realized that my want to control wasn’t coming from a place of anger at this person not doing what I want or being who I want, and definitely not from a place of love because I “know what’s best for them”, it was coming from the hurt I feel when I see them in pain. It was coming from a place of worry that their condition will worsen and they will lose more mobility.

My frustration let me know that something in me needed tending to, so that’s what I did.

In this situation that wasn’t that hard- I very quickly realized that my want for control was coming from the feelings of powerlessness I have when I see this person I love hurting. It is also a feeling of helplessness because they are also chronically unhoused, struggling with their mental health and substance use, and navigating some very complex relationships and it feels like there is little I can do to help. So I acknowledged my feelings (saying in my head, “this makes me feel sad and worried”) and re-centered myself in what I do have power over, and that is how I show up. And I showed up with compassion and love and care. I gave them their supplies and asked them what was on their to do list. I reminded them that I’ll be here every day, happy to see them, and ready to help in any way I can. And, because this person can feel how much I love them, there is all the more chance they will come back for support tomorrow.

As the political climate continues to feel less and less stable, I have spent a lot of time thinking about what my role is and how I can show up for my community as things collapse even more than they have. I have always felt like I don’t have much to offer the revolution- I have no mechanical skills, I don’t know how to garden, I am not amazing at organizing groups of people- my calling has always been people and feelings. But as I’ve watched things crumble it has become very clear that the ability to understand, listen to, soothe, and regulate ourselves is the foundation for a long lasting, better world. The people who are currently waging wars against each other are showing all of us what happens when we don’t know how to cope with our feelings of fear, hurt, disappointment, and helplessness.

Revolution begins with each of us, in our hearts, in our bodies- and the work to be connected to ourselves is a worthwhile endeavor.

p.s. i had a wild idea that each of these drawings would be real actual linocut pieces but it turns out i have a very busy life and a full time job and linocuts take a million years, so forgive the pretend linocuts. i do know how to make them for real though, i swear.