Month: November 2017

Control

With a new catastrophe in the news almost daily and others on deck, it is easy to feel like we have little-to-no control over what’s happening around us.

And that thought terrifies me.

I have always been greedy about the levels of control in my life. Even when I was in college, I never felt the need to get blackout drunk and turn my mind off enough to make reckless decisions.

I hate sitting in the passenger seat of a car. I much prefer to drive or sit in the back so I can’t see what is happening in front of me. I like to be in control when I can because it makes me feel more balanced in a world that seems more off-kilter every morning.

The idea of control has been on my mind a lot lately, but I’ve been thinking about it differently than I usually do. And I’ve realized a few things about it:

Sometimes It’s Good to Loosen the Control Reigns

While it is important to feel in control of your life and your decisions, sometimes the best experiences occur when you back off and let loose. The first time I ever left the country, I went to Italy with a friend. We were nineteen and, although we weren’t stupid, we didn’t have much life experience. I kept a journal of the trip and the one line I really remember after all of these years is “the best parts of our trip happened by accident.”

In one of those instances, we met a guy from Argentina and decided to take the train from Florence to Cortona with him. Lucas spoke more Italian than my friend and I, and we completely trusted him to find us a taxi back to the train station. We didn’t know it until we were almost down the windy roads of the small village, but Lucas actually paid some regular guy to take us down the hill (this was way, way before the days of Uber and Lyft). I momentarily freaked out when I discovered this, but we ended up being fine.

When you travel, you have to give up control otherwise you will be disappointed. Going with the flow is the only way to ensure that you have a fun time. This is a good metaphor for life: sometimes it is just not possible to be in control and you have to be okay with it.

You Can’t Control Others, But You Can Control How You React to Them

I think a lot of people struggle with the fact that they can’t control what other people do, myself included. We will never be able to control what other people do, but we can control how we react to it. If someone cuts you off in traffic, it’s okay to be annoyed, but if you let it ruin your whole day, you are only hurting yourself.

Don’t take the actions of others so seriously that it starts to affect your life. Try to remember that everyone is doing the best they can and that they are not always in control of their circumstances, either. The only thing you can really control is what you do when you are faced with certain situations.

Control and Controlling Are Not the Same

I think it is important for each of us to feel in control of our lives—especially in relation to the present moment. That does not mean I think it’s necessary to be controlling of every interaction and circumstance that happens in your life, though.

Having control means that you are making active decisions to keep yourself moving forward. Being controlling means that you are trying too hard to make sure everything is done your way, even when it doesn’t specifically relate to you. I like being in control, but I never want someone else to feel like I am controlling.

Honor yourself and your emotions. Know that you have the power to change your present situation. Do not let yourself feel like a victim of your life. But don’t try to take away someone else’s control, either.

Just live, be present, be grateful, and always strive to be more.

 

Scars

I have a scar in the crook of my right elbow. It’s very light and most people never notice it, but its existence somewhat comforting for me. I got it one year in Florida. I think it was the last time my mom and I visited my grandparents together at their winter home.

We were going to visit some other family and I was already stressed out because my Jewish mom and grandparents were being loud and every-so-slightly neurotic. We got all the way down to the car before my grandfather realized he forgot the directions.

I offered to go back up to their third floor apartment to get them, but I wasn’t happy about it. It wasn’t really the inconvenience of going back upstairs. To be honest, I was a little relieved to get some time by myself and take a non-neurotic breath before spending more than an hour in the car with all the energy of my family. Now that I look back on it, I think I was frustrated more because it was so unlike my grandfather to forget something like that and it was one of the first signs that he was getting really old.

Anyway, I may have opened the door to their apartment a little too forcefully when I got back upstairs and my elbow got caught on a metal piece of the door. It started bleeding profusely right away and I knew that it was going to scar. I remember letting out a disgusted breath; not only would I have to find the directions, but now I would have to get a bandage too.

Although my negative inclinations seem silly now, I do remember thinking in the moment that I would be happy to have this scar. That I could always look back at it and remember the feeling of being at my grandparents’ house. There was and is something reassuring about it.

I’ve learned that scars don’t always show up the same way. There are the physical scars that constantly remind us of things, times, places, and people. The ones we can look at that instantly transform us somewhere else. My hands, legs, and even more forehead are littered with scars like this.

Then there are the hidden scars even we don’t see. The ones that affect us in unusual ways—like making us shy away from certain opportunities or that color our relationships with the people in our lives.

My friend and I were talking about these hidden scars this morning. One of my biggest hidden scars is about my father, with whom I have almost no relationship. I have definitely struggled with this scar throughout my life, but I have also honored those feelings enough that I usually find myself at peace about them.

During our conversation, though, I realized that just because you make “peace” with one of these scars does not mean that it heals. Like the physical scars on our bodies, they are always with us. And even if we have a good outlook about them, they can still pop up at unexpected times and muddy the aesthetic of our minds.

I also realized, though, that it’s okay if that happens. Because, like the scars on our bodies, these hidden scars tell the stories of our lives. If we let them, they can remind us of where we’ve been and allow us to stay centered as we move on to where we are going.

Instead of being disgusted by my scars, I’m going to try to feel some gratitude about them and understand that they helped shape me physically and emotionally.

And to realize that there is something soothing about the fact that they are always with me.