What does it mean to give up control?
It took me a while to think this through. And what came to mind is that control is tied to relevance.
So, as long as I am contributing, I am feeding my need to be relevant—to be of use, to have purpose, to be needed.
And control is the worst kind of contributing.
But, one might ask, no matter how bad a controlling tendency can be, wouldn't it be worse to lose relevancy?
Many of us must think so, since many of us have a controlling tendency or two (or three or four!)
But what if, in fact, relevancy is not tied to control? What if, in actuality, relevancy is negated through control?
If that’s the case, and I now believe it to be, then the very thing I’ve been afraid of losing by giving up control is or already has been lost!
So then relevancy isn’t tied to control—it’s tied to giving up control.
That’s because when the irritating habit of control is removed, respect, and maybe even admiration—relevance—can take its place.
Why is control so damaging to relevance?
Because control, when it comes down to it, is narcissistic.
It demands to be involved, to be heard, to be listened to and allowed admittance. Even when it doesn’t know best, or have all the answers, control still wants a piece of the action; to not be left out. That’s where control’s “two cents worth” comes in. And that’s two cents too much for most people. And that’s why controlling people never gain the relevance they hope for.
But what if control surrendered?
What if control said, “I’m retiring. I’m done. I’m outta here.”
What will be demanded in its place?
Well, nothing. Because control by its very nature is the thing that demands.
Absent of control, we are free from the narcissism of needing to be needed, and the inner demand to be perceived as superior, knowledgeable, and right.
We no longer thirst for acknowledgement, gratitude, influence or other people’s submission.
We remove ourselves from the equation that is other people’s lives.
And if we are ever asked for help or advice, we respond within the singular boundary of that specific inquiry or instance—nothing more. We do not volunteer more of ourselves than is desired by the other person.
Once we understand control as a narcissistic trait, we can begin to disarm it through discerning our motivations.
Why am I buying these unasked-for clothes for my grandchild?
Why am I suggesting solutions or trying to fix people’s problems when all they want is for me to listen quietly?
Why am I jumping in to help when those around me are more than capable of solving a problem on their own (such as finding the large soup spoon in the utensil drawer without my getting it for them?)
We can also begin to watch for instances of control in others as a way to detect it more clearly in ourselves:
When we see another spouse correcting their partner over petty details.
When one sibling interrupts and takes over another sibling’s conversation at a family gathering.
When a mom becomes short with her child because the cookies or cake aren’t being decorated “just so.”
When a co-worker admonishes another co-worker for putting the plastic cups to the right of the water cooler instead of to the left.
When a bitter argument grows out of a mundane mishap.
Being on the lookout for control in others is one way to point the finger right back at ourselves and admit, “I do that too.”
But then to also seriously admit:
“I no longer want to ‘do that too!’”
That’s when we know we are ready to exchange the low self-esteem of narcissistic control for the quiet, mature confidence of humbly letting go.
That means we allow other people to make their own mistakes; we remain silent when not consulted; we don’t show up with unwanted gifts and items; we don’t make rude and critical comments about the way someone else is completing a task, raising their children or running their household.
And in all of it, we acknowledge and accept that we are not our parents and they are not us; we are not our children and they are not us; and we are not our spouse and they are not us.
In addition, there is rarely just one way of doing anything, and most actions and activities could be accomplished without any commentary at all.
When we give up control, we opt instead for respect—respect, and trust, that others are capable and worthy and can do just fine without our input.
And we’re just fine with that.
Copyright Barb Harwood
