As a child I was highly controlled – emotional manipulation, gaslighting, responsibility without the power to do anything. I adapted – I knew how to walk so carefully on eggshells that they wouldn’t crack... Or so I told myself – because the actual truth is that if someone is abusive, the eggshells will always crack - and there was nothing you could have ever done to stop it. But, when they did crack, I internalized it was my fault and believed in my ability to control what I could do differently. How I could shrink further – take up less space. Become invisible. Make sure their needs were met silently, as though everything just flowed.
So of course, control was imbedded into my nervous system. It felt comfortable. Familiar.
Being controlled. Fawning. Discarding my own power.
Being responsible for other people’s experiences and emotions through managing myself, minimizing my needs to please and make space for others. Living in constant awareness of the vibe of the room. A relentless, silent, inner dance: being controlled and controlling others.
The dark truth about people-pleasing is that it is about controlling others – often hiding your truth to manipulate outcomes. It hurts the people-pleaser, and it does a disservice to the other person. It repels healthy relationships and often keeps you stuck in the familiar dynamic of control.
And now, with the wonder of retrospect, I faced the fact that throughout my adult life, I sought being controlled. I welcomed it. It felt safe, and so it was easy for that control to slip into abuse... when that power was in the wrong person’s hands – and I would fawn to it because my nervous system told me it was something I could manage – I knew what to do, I could be perfect.
But even when my partner wasn’t problematic… when the control wasn’t abusive, it was something I leant on – something that helped me – as it removed responsibility… it saved me from daily decision paralysis. I grasped onto the comfort in being controlled.
But the cost was giving up my dreams. The cost was outsourcing my power. The cost was reinforcing the belief that I was not capable, that I was not worthy, that I was not competent. The cost was a disconnection from myself… and truly, the cost was the sense of inner freedom.
As I dug further, I found that when my partner was unwilling to take that role, I became the controller.
As I sat with that observation, I got curious. Why would that role flip? Surely, for someone who actively didn’t want to control their own life, it would be hell to control someone else?
As I sat with the discomfort at the thought of being the controller I was faced with a core belief that had been living in my subconscious… a belief that was so foundational to my survival, my safety, my approval and my worth… that it fuelled everything…
I believed that control was necessary in relationships. And so, if my partner did not take the role, I would have to. And that is why relationships always felt like a trap for me. I always loved being single – I always felt so empowered, so magnetic – because that is what it feels like when we are in our own power. I naturally welcomed my humanness – my mistakes, my messy experience – the ups and the downs.
And yet this core belief reinforced a belief that I wasn’t capable enough, and so I would find myself back in a relationship soon enough.
Even though I actively don’t agree with that belief, I wasn’t aware of it at all - it was in my subconscious. And so it had been the place where I moved from. An inner dissonance covered up by the drama caused by being in relationships where control is a key factor.
This control would often spiral inwards, fuelling higher levels of perfectionism in fear of the unknown… fear of external judgements and it would often pour out into how I controlled… micro-managing, high expectations and criticism. A mirror to my inner world, being projected out.
The cost was a constant heaviness, a relentless seriousness, a rigidity.
What would it feel like to let go of control?
What would it be like if I wasn’t responsible?
What would it be like if I returned to the wisdoms I had gathered so far in my life…
The importance in honouring boundaries… in knowing what was mine and what is yours – so I could take accountability for me and let go of this false sense of accountability for others?
The peace found in radical self-acceptance… how peaceful it feels to see myself as I am, flaws and all, and to give space to it all – and how that then spills into my relationships and allows me to meet my partner with empathy, compassion and kindness… the mirror to my inner world, again, being projected out.
A reminder that things don’t have to be perfect – that any given situation that is presented to me “just is” and to move from that place – because when we aren’t being motivated by self-loathing, or fear, our goals become easily excitable and joyful. And the journey to achieving them becomes more important than the outcome, which is a key ingredient for joy and moving away from a paralysing fear of failure.
The release has made more space for joy, laughter, ease and acceptance – a radical acceptance of self and others. An ability to allow myself and others to simply arrive as they are – in all their human messy experience. It is still a journey. And yet, this realisation of control has been a fundamental shift in accessing that acceptance more fully and it is so freeing.
What does it look like when I am not in control of the things that I can’t control? Peaceful. Silly. Fun. Spacious. And an abundance of personal power because I am not outsourcing it.
And within this newfound space, I can nurture my internal world, to cultivate what I truly want. Taking responsibility for what I truly want, instead of living through avoiding what I don’t want.
What can you do if you find your relationship with control is imbalanced?
Sit with it – not trying to fix it, or judge it – but simply allowing this newfound realisation to have space.
Get curious, and view it through a lens of self-compassion.
Take back your power - I realise now that as a highly controlled child, I never had the practice of being responsible for managing the constant barrage of daily decisions and so, as I re-parented myself, I had to allow myself this experience. And with that, I had to give myself permission to fail… to fuck up… to learn what works for me.
Ask yourself… who would I be, if I didn’t have to control everything? And whatever that answer is, cultivate more of that into your daily life. Because I promise you, that is a huge step towards who you really are. The feeling of freedom is there when you put down the reigns of control.
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