Serenity Now!

We've all heard the AA messages, "One Day at a Time" (totally my favorite '70s television show) and the Serenity Prayer (God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.) Alcoholism is in my family, so these were messages I heard early on. But I'll be honest that I never really thought about what they meant, and how they could be applied until, well, today.

I am a total control freak, and spend my days consciously and subconsciously obsessing about how to control everything in my path. Intellectually I know this is a futile pursuit. It's impossible really because as a human on this tiny planet, I really don't have control over very much at all, which is most distressing.

I received scientific proof of this obsession with control last April when I was selected to attend a leadership development academy with a cohort of other nonprofit leaders (read: lots of other folks who share a love for helping others and, yes, control). Before the experience, we were all administered a battery of tests designed to give us insight into how we operate. One of those tests was the FIRO-B, which helps assess our need for interpersonal interaction in the areas of Inclusion, Control and Affection in terms of both ‘expressed’ and ‘wanted’ behaviors. I know, zzz, but stay with me.

So they took all of our scores and hung them up around the room -- one stood out as the highest control score -- 9 (max) on 'expressed' control (how much you want to control others) and a big old goose egg on 'wanted' control (how much you want to be controlled). And you guessed it, the owner of those scores was yours truly. So even in a room full of people who like to control, I had "won," so to speak. I had also really "won" because the test also showed my need for affection and inclusion were also high -- sparking jokes among us like, "I don't want to GO to your stupid party, but you better invite me." It was explained to me that this combo -- really wanting to be in control, yet also needing affection and needing to be included, could really be a recipe for disaster. A "winning" combination.

Only not so much. In a world where you can't control anything, it is NO good at all to want to be so controlling. But it was really eye opening for me to see these numbers and to really understand how I think, which embarrassingly, was alien to me, and, more importantly, how I come across. So, since then, I've been really trying to work on that, with mixed results. At work, it's been easier. I still freak out inside when a project I've delegated gets done and it's "not the way I would have done it," but it's done, and best of all, I didn't have to do it. And I've realized, if I stop trying to control everyone else's work, it leaves me time to do what I have actually been hired to do, and it actually gives the people I work with room to grow and learn.

In my personal life, it's been a bit harder. Among my friends, I am the planner, the organizer, so stepping back and not planning as much (trying not to control) has honestly meant that I don't get invited to much. Which is not an exercise I recommend because it doesn't feel great to not be included, and I really need that, but I understand how and why it happens. So I'm learning to strike a balance.

Which brings me to today, and finally learning the lesson that I can't control anything. Honestly, even as late as last week, in recovering from this accident, I thought I could control the process, even through crazy things. Like I moved my bed a little to the right so it's not under the ceiling fan, in case, you know, the fan, which is not even turned on, should go out of control and fall on me and give me another concussion. And wait, is the tub floor a little wobbly, maybe it is about to crash through the floor! Because everything is conspiring against me to slow down the healing. The logic being ... If I do X, I will feel better. And for God's sake, don't do Y

Wrong.

This is something that is really and truly out of my control. Sure, I can try to help it along by sleeping a lot, eating healthy, and trying not to get stressed, but really, a lot of it is out of my hands. So the other day I just made the decision that I was going to surrender to the process, and see where it goes. And let it take as long as it takes. I honestly said to myself, "Just let this go." And shockingly, I do feel better. This isn't the end of the world, it's not a life-threatening condition. And as frustrating as it is for me to not feel 100%, this is how it is, every day I'm a little better, and obsessing about it won't make me heal any faster.

But I'm still not moving my bed back under that fan...