Control Freak

I’ve always had a particular penchant for being cautious and for needing to predict outcomes.  I like to somewhat play it safe and to feel “in control”.    I’m pretty sure that “going with the flow” doesn’t qualify as one of my gifts.  

Being free spirited, as sexy as it sounds isn’t something that comes naturally for me, but I want to work on it.  It think it’s both mystifying and elusive as a concept because it’s rigged.

Micheal Franti says that “only a rat can win a rat race”, well…this is where I worry that maybe I’m trying to get to the cheese, just because it’s expected.  

Fit bits calculate the exact number of steps we take and exactly when we should take a deep breath.  My car tells me when I need to take a coffee break.  Facebook tells me how many friends I have.  My phone tells me where my kids are at the touch of a button.  Although I want to respect their autonomy, it’s often way too easy to touch the button.  My Garmin watch told me during my morning run that I was performing at a +1.  I’d love to know what the hell that means but in the end, Garmin apparently gets to play a role in the quality of my self confidence.

In a world where outcome predictability is practically automated and anything can be calculated and estimated, we find ourselves embedded in the illusion that we are in control and that we know exactly what’s going on.

Control has become an expectation.  We should be able to control our life outcomes and if we manage to do this effectively,  we’re considered responsible and this somehow reduces our stress levels.  Not being to able to predict what’s around the corner leaves us feeling apprehensive and trepidatious.  The expectation of predictability and the constant measuring of everything renders the attractive idea of “throwing caution to the wind” as risky and culturally irresponsible.

A few years ago, I was taking a surf lesson from nothing short of wizard, disguised as a dirt bag surfer with a dilapidated van that smelled like old and dirty wetsuits.

In the water, he pointed out that I wasn’t breathing and asked me how I expected to stand up and surf if I was hanging onto the board like my life depended on it.  I told him I was terrified.  He asked me “of what?”.  I told him that I felt like if I let go of the board and managed to stand up and look up, that I would be relinquishing control.  Control of what?  Control over my safety, control over my immediate environment, control over my immediate outcome (even though in this case the outcome was laying on my stomach hanging on for dear life).  

He said something I’ll never forget.  He pointed out that I never had control of all those things in the first place, I just pretended I did.

I think we get caught up in the idea of predictability and control because it makes us feel safer.  When something unpredictable happens, it stresses us out and makes us feel inadequate because control and predictability are expected.  

In our current health care paradigm, we’re surrounded by the fear around unpredictability.  Fear of cancer, fear of heart disease, fear of accidents, fear of not waking up and fear of feeling anxious.  We’re also fearful about the more predictable realities.  Fear of getting old.  Fear of slowing down.  Fear of dying.

What if we let go of control and replace with trust?  I’d rather trust that my kids will become trustworthy.  I like to trust that my body will stay free of dis-ease if I do my best to eat well, think well and move well.  I want to believe that I should take risks and that the road less travelled is the way to navigate.  The idea of simply just trusting that it’ll  play itself out the way it was intended to removes an enormous pressure to predict the unpredictable.

I feel more ease and more beauty in teaching our kids that if they take care of the way they eat, move and think, that they should expect to excel and thrive and that they shouldn’t worry about the rest.  I’ve been told that this may be a bit naive…but I’d rather be naive than afraid of the unknown.

Maybe the only thing we have control over is how much we’re willing to trust that our endpoint will naturally just unfold itself along the way.

I love stepping off the turf soccer field, with the set rules, and set times set expectations and then flipping the switch by taking my kids somewhere like the ocean or mountains, where they don’t really know what’s around the corner.  It seems we don’t give ourselves enough credit for our ability to adapt and the resilience we were born with.  

I find that when I ask myself whose expectations I’m living up to, I do feel uncomfortable but  liberated.   In the end, I hope to do more things I know nothing about, fail at it,  be called naive, and come out the other side still grateful that I went for it.