Con·trol (kənˈtrōl/)

This year, I resolve to be out of control!

Growing up, I remember getting upset everytime someone called me bossy. I didn’t realize it then, but my administrative skills, self-awareness, assertiveness, and knack for organization and coordinating… somehow translated as bossy.

Okay, okay! Passivity and lack of structure totally makes me cringe. So, I take charge.  Even still, the nerve of them to call me bossy. Humph!

As a GROWN woman:

I must admit that I am a bit of a control freak. The word control freak hurts my palate as it rolls off of my tongue, but there I said it. Now, I’ll justify that statement by saying I’m not a control freak in the way that you think.

I’m not a control freak for the sake of controlling others but ONLY as it relates to me, things concerning me, matters affecting me and my outcomes.

I remember being only 4 or 5 years old, coming up with master plans for my sister and I. We’re just 11 months apart. We even share the same age a week before I become the oldest again. She was my muse and accomplice. For whatever reason, I always had a brilliant idea – even if that plan led to an ass whooping or punishment. Still, it was bright, and she’d be my accomplice, down for anything.

At 12, I took my Medicaid card (yes, a Medicaid card) for identification purposes to a bank. I was trying to get funds out of my savings account (opened through a school program). I probably only had 15 dollars in it, to begin with.  However, I needed to prove I was me and I didn’t have an ID at 12, of course.

First of all, I snuck out the house and took the bus to the bank. I planned to hit up the mall and to meet my “boyfriend” (that I wasn’t supposed to have) there. Yes, my accomplice was with me. She was set to meet his brother. Ha! Needless to say, they wouldn’t let me get money out without a parent present. The damn bank teller had no respect for my Medicaid card. Luckily, we had enough money to get to the mall but sadly not enough to get home.

My sister and I were stranded and ended up needing to call for help. We needed to be back home before our mom arrived. The chewing out later was tragic, and it showed me I was not in control.

This and countless other stories (and, I do have lots of stories) are remarkable demonstrations of my desire to have control (NOUN – power/influence or direct people’s behaviors. VERB – determine the action or supervise the running of).

I need to know where I’m heading, what’s next and the best steps to take as it relates to me and outcomes affecting me. I am the habitual planner, coordinator, and producer. I am strategic, intentional and thoughtful. I mean, I need to know the destination before traveling. This is due to my fear of wasting gas by merely joy riding. I hate to waste my time.

Admittingly, I am working on enjoying the journey as much as arriving. In real life, I hardly view my GPS in map mode. I need to see the turn by turn navigation to anticipate preparation for the next turn. What if I need to switch lanes? I need to be prepared in advance. I am NOT a fly by the seat of my pants gal!

Sadly, these are all forms of control – me wanting to be prepared at all times and in control of myself or what is next for me. Me needing to allocate time, energy and to have an idea of what I’m walking into before walking… Yeah, that’s control. I like to set goals, action plans and to execute them. It’s nothing wrong with that part, but it’s definitely something wrong with my why.

That said, I love New Years, and coincidentally it’s my favorite holiday. I like the idea of clean slates, chronological orders, goals and new beginnings. It is enticing to me. I am notorious for having a plan. I am the friend of my friends who can finesse things… the friend with a game plan.

But, for the first time in my life, I realize just how out of control I am. 2017 has shown me loud and clear that I am in no fashion, shape or form in control of a thing.

Furthermore, the creator does not need to run a thing by me, he is not obligated to give an advance, formula, turn by turn navigation or even a destination/location to where he’s taking me. Errrrr!

He’s also teaching me (through motherhood) the flexibility and necessity to relinquish control. The kids will be who they are, and all I can do is set them up for success, provide resources, support, coach and love them. I can not control how their lives will turn out. I can not control how my life will turn out or even how this year will turn out. I can’t honestly control anyone or anything. Consequently, this year I resolve to flow, be more organic and to demonstrate self-control of my need for control.

I am a vulnerable learner.

 

xoxo,

Sistamom