Anybody here like things to be under control? Like to be seen as “on top of things”? Like things to go predictably as planned?

Of course you prefer control—and if you don’t, you’re quite possibly an un-housebroken puppy peeing all over the couch: wildly careening out of control (but still cute while squatting—points for that).

Our brains are anxious little prediction machines, and control helps to reduce the uncertainty that so often leads to stress.

Control is the adult version of a blankie; it provides the ~illusion~ of safety. Even perceived control can lower stress hormones and help us cope better with the seething mass of an all-hell-has-broken-loose kind of day/ work project/ Presidential term.

Here’s a handy formula to keep in your pocket:

Control = predictability = security = you know you’re fucked, right?

So much for that warm and fuzzy illusion of safety.

If we’re being honest with ourselves, our tendencies to over-plan, micro-manage, earn the nickname of Control Freak, and alphabetize the spice rack… these Operation: Control Everything Even The Weather missions are failing. (All snarks aside, alphabetizing the spice rack is an excellent best practice, because when you need thyme you don’t want to be twirling that lazy Susan in circles for minutes on end. You want to go straight to the thyme jar which can be obviously be found in its rightful place between tarragon and turmeric.)

We might want to recalibrate our “DANGER! SOMETHING MIGHT GO MILDLY WRONG!” threat responses, because our efforts to control an uncontrollable existence are largely in vain anyways. Trying to control life is like trying to staple Jell-O to the wall. Dignified, but doomed. (For the record, I tried to doodle the stapling of Jell-O to a wall for this post and abandoned the mission. It’s un-drawable. I dare you to try.)

I’m pleased to announce that the “we are destined to spiral wildly out of control until we die” portion of this article is over. We are moving into the “relax, nothing is under control” section (credit to spiritual teacher Adi Da for that saying which must rightfully be embroidered on pillows everywhere).

Notes on the sweet surrender to cosmic chaos:

#1: One moment at a time.

My friend Tessa’s son, Jacob, is in his home stretch of a 27-month volunteer mission with the Peace Corps in South Africa. (👈This falls under the “not for the faint of heart” category of life experiences. My heart/ constitution is too faint to sign up for these kinds of service missions. This is why we rightfully admire people like Jacob and scoff at people like me.)

Okay, so un-faint-of-heart-Jacob wrote an essay called Marathons and Peace Corps (which hasn’t been published yet, sorry), in which he wisely parallels his insights about running long distances and immersing himself in the remote village the Peace Corps assigned him to. Here’s the relevant snippet I wanted to share about “learning the value of just finding a way to take the next step”:

After two weeks back in the US enjoying wonderful reunions, conversations entirely in English, and several pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, I felt frightened by the prospect of going back to my much harder life in South Africa for the next year. But as my mom often does, she knew just the piece of advice to give: “You are scared of how hard the next year will be. But life is not asking you to live all of those days at one time.” In short, take it one step at a time.

My first marathon is the perfect example of taking it one step at a time. As Emma and I climbed the race’s steepest ascent for the first of two times, I declared to her with all the eloquence I could muster through heavy breathing, “Wow this is going to suck even more when we do it again in about 15 kilometers.” I was running my first marathon with my best friend and all I could think about was future pain. Fifteen kilometers later, I was flying up the same hill I had been dreading. In fact, I got my first (and only ever) runner’s high on that hill. What was supposed to be the worst part of my race turned into the best.

That first marathon, as with Peace Corps, showed me how it is often totally useless, and sometimes detrimental, to spend energy anticipating the future. I just cannot know what is going to happen, so I might as well live in the now. If in the first six months of Peace Corps (which were particularly grueling), I had spent all my time worrying how I would survive for two years than I would never have actually learned how to survive each day. For a reflective, future-oriented person like me, it has been liberating to realize sometimes it is better to just put the blinders on and keep moving forward. And when I take the blinders off, I often find myself in a place I never could have anticipated.

Wow, right? Are you skipping ahead in your mind to the “hard miles,” when you could just be running the current mile you’re living in, right now, that might be pretty great? Do you need to heed Jacob and Tessa’s advice to not try and “live all the days at one time”?

Life is begging to be lived now, not later. Just as ruminating over the past is usually a waste of time, tail-spinning about the future is the equivalent of peeing all over a perfectly fine moment called Now. (You’ve really got to train that puppy.)

#2: Reschedule your control efforts.

My friend Becka’s therapist encourages her to defer her worries: “He says I’m allowed to worry about my lease renewal, but not until September.” It was only April so she bought herself five months of breathing easy (and then presumably into a paper bag after Labor Day?). When the time came around to get short of breath about the lease (as scheduled, haha), they just worked through it one therapeutic step at a time. Sounds like a way better strategy than catastrophizing all summer long.

This reminds me of the simplicity of a to-do list; by writing down the things we have to do this weekend/ complete for a work project/ buy at the grocery store, we buy ourselves space to live until we have to Do/ Buy The Things—at which point we can consult our handy list, with all the answers we absolved ourselves from dwelling on, ready and waiting for our well-timed attention.

So now what?

Writing a post about “just stop worrying!!” is like yelling at a cloud to stop its pesky raining on your meticulously-planned picnic. Cathartic, maybe. Effective? Not really. Not really at all. Sometimes we just need a wafery-thin bit of an idea to be less maniacal today about this control thing. Maybe one of the two ideas above allows for a minor relinquishment of the death grip you’ve got going on.

“Everything will be okay in the end and if it’s not okay, it’s not the end.” (They say John Lennon said that but we’ll never know because John reached his end.)

Control is like holding sugar—grip it too tight, and it slips out. Hold it gently… and you’re still going to lose some, but at least you end up with a sweaty handful of something to add to your coffee. Let’s keep life sweet, shall we?