I used to call myself a control freak.
Said it like it was a strength.
Something to brag about.
Evidence that I cared.
That I was dialed in.
That I took things seriously.
“You don’t get it. I’m a control freak.”
Like it explained my excellence.
Like it excused my exhaustion.
People would say things.
Let go.
Turn it over.
Let go and let…
You know the rest.
Those phrases brought relief.
They did not provide release.
They’re trying to solve the wrong problem.
The problem isn’t that I held on too tightly.
The problem is I believed it was mine to hold.
If I ever had control,
real, actual, full control,
I wouldn’t let go.
Not ever.
I might give you an afternoon off.
I’d still be running the show.
That’s the lie I had to face.
Held back most of the control.
Kept almost all of it.
We’re not suffering from control.
We’re suffering from the delusion of it.
A delusion is a lie I tell myself.
What I needed to let go of
isn’t the control.
It was the lie that I had it.
That’s the only thing I have to turn over.
That’s what puts things
back in proper order.