“Control is highly overrated. Most times we just
need to get out of our own way.”
I just read that in an article on Huffington Post. As someone who tries to
constantly be in control, who is scared or losing control and who cannot suffer
being controlled, that quote somehow makes everything come into focus.
My obsession with control is getting in my own way. Woah that was difficult
to write down. In fact, I typed different versions of that sentence starting
with “Perhaps…”, “Maybe…”, “It seems like…”. But the truth is, there is no
question about it, my obsession with control is getting in my own way. It was
easier to write it the second time.
I have always been someone who needs control. As a child I was obsessive
about controlling my environment. I used to torment everyone around to house to
keep everything clean. I would not allow a speck of dust, one cobweb or a shirt
lying around. I used to be a complete terror. Then I grew up and realized that
I didn’t have as much time as I did as a 7 year old to spend on keeping the
house in order. I let my room get messy during the week and cleaned up during
the weekends. But one thing I always did was to make my bed. This was a small
victory for the OCD kid in me. Although I let go of my need to control my environment,
I found other ways to exercise control. Control of my emotions was something I discovered
did not require any spare time. I could always control my emotions. This was
not as easy as I thought it would be. I would keep my anger and frustration
within me for so long, that there were moments when my floodgates would open
and destroy everything around me. I remember a few occasions when I broke a
chair or a friends pencil case at school. Unfortunately what I learnt from
these blow ups was to become even more guarded and controlled with my emotions.
That control didn’t allow me to feel hurt, betrayed or depressed. I
channeled these emotions into anger and frustration which festered inside me.
But what the world saw was a bright, happy, sprightly and fun loving young
girl. There were people who I allowed to get a peek inside me. They saw the sad
little girl curled up in the corner of my soul nursing her wounds. There was
nothing they could say to change me.
My habit of controlling my emotions prevented me from getting into
situations where I would get hurt, betrayed or depressed because it was easier
to prevent than control these emotions. They say prevention is better than
cure, but perhaps that doesn’t quite apply in control. When it came to making a
decision about school, I would rather stay at home than go and face any
trouble. When it came to having feelings for a boy, I would rather keep them to
myself than risk him not liking me back. When it came to trusting a new friend,
I would rather keep the friendship superficial than tell any secrets that they
could hold against me.
I may have lost out on a lot of things, got in my own way in a lot of
things because I wanted to control my emotions so much. Not ‘may’, I HAVE lost
out. I lost out on good friends, loving boyfriends, and rewarding situations.
On the other hand, when I could control the situation, and my emotions, I
never hesitated to jump into things. If it meant getting drunk and doing
something crazy like dance on a table in high heels, now that didn’t worry the
control freak in me. Even if it meant a broken wrist. I may have been physically
broken, but emotionally I was intact. It was the same with casual hookups. I
didn’t need to be emotionally invested in a boy whose name I barely knew, as
long as he was pretty and would pleasure me for a night. He can’t break my
heart when I only gave him my body.
I did allow myself to be emotionally vulnerable once, but I never let go of
my control. The control freak in me believed that he would cheat on me
eventually, so it was alright to cheat on him first. The logic was that, it
wouldn’t hurt when he did it, if I had done it first. That control freak was
wrong. It stills hurts just as much, and made me feel terrible about myself
because I had been as morally low as him. I kept blaming him for my emotional
scarring, to hide the fact that I was also to blame. I didn’t control myself as
much as I should have. So I upped the control. For the next few years, it was
not about trust, caring and feelings, it was about lust, passion and pleasure.
So I got in the way of myself, I didn’t let anyone close to me, to see that
I was actually a total softie. The tough girl, the sexy girl, the fun, exciting
and crazy girl was what they saw. Then I realized that she was getting out of
control. I was having too much fun, getting into too many compromising situations;
she had to be reined in too. Then the serious girl was re-born. She of my
school years, she who looked down upon those who ran around, played and laughed
out loud. She was back, and this time she went to work. At work, I am in
control of my image. I work hard, late and I’m passionate about my work. I’m in
control of the fun girl, the party girl but also the softie. Sometimes the
silly one would peek out in the lunch room conversations. But she was harmless.
Schizophrenic much?
Maybe just a little bit. I believe that all these parts of me exist
simultaneously, but the control freak holds onto the reigns. She decides who
comes out and who stays in. She is the one who is ‘highly overrated and gets in
my way’.
“Hello all! I am a Control Freak.” If there was a CFA (Control Freaks
Anonymous) that is what I would say. But there isn’t. Saying it out loud
doesn’t make any difference. I don’t know what would. I have to change my
personality, which I am not sure is possible at this point in my life. I am
pretty settled in my beliefs and my perception of who I am. What I need is to
make a choice. A choice about who I should give the reigns of my emotions to. I
can neither give it to the softie, the control freak nor the fun girl. They
would all lead me down different but difficult roads. I need to cure my
schizophrenia and merge all these parts of myself, and accept that I am the sum
of all these parts.
That’s easier written down that done. But at least it’s a start!
