Illusion of control

Whoever it is, you won’t change them.

The illusion of control - the grey clouds skudding across the sky reminded me of the illusion of control. We have no more ability to control others than we do the clouds in the sky. (Image Copyright: J M Yeoman.)

After spending time with older relatives and people close to me who are meant to love me unconditionally, I have to remind myself of Cassie Phillips’ poem ‘Let Them’.

You know what it’s like. Someone you love, who is entirely infuriating, refuses to change, no matter how hard you try to make them see reason!

If you’re lucky, you recognise early in life that it’s futile and just let them be.

That’s the thing with unconditional love, you’re meant to accept who someone is, warts and all. Chances are, you’re just as infuriating to them.

In this instance, I was sitting around chatting with older relatives, all women. We were discussing health and weight, as well as the beliefs that drive so many of our behaviours, including those around food.

It’s one of those situations that’s entirely fraught because there are many opportunities for misunderstanding and a sense of someone being to blame, when in reality, it has nothing to do with pointing the finger.

I often avoid these conversations with this particular group of women, knowing what the responses are going to be. It’s just easier than dealing with the aggression – a learned behaviour to feeling hurt – negativity, and the dismissal of my feelings as wrong.

On this occasion, the conversation wound its way there and ended with one storming out of the room, waves of anger billowing after her like trailing diesel exhaust clouds.

She returned, and I reiterated that it wasn’t about blame. It was the way my child’s mind interpreted things, and these became beliefs with some not-so-great habits attached to them.

The concept that’s most alien to them is my high sensitivity. I get the “it’s rubbish” vibes pretty strongly because the trait wasn’t even identified until the 1990s, so it’s modern mumbo-jumbo (although one of them knows she’s highly sensitive and certainly understands, as it’s hugely impacted her life).

It’s often the case when you talk about the trait of high sensitivity. It’s little known and even less understood because the majority of the world’s population doesn’t have it.

One of the commonalities of the trait is the tendency to ruminate on every little detail of every conversation, every nuance and inflection, every little word. I still find myself doing it, even when I know perfectly well that it’s pointless and a great way to wind up my nervous system.

It takes a conscious effort to breathe deeply, ground myself – usually by rubbing my bare feet on the ground beneath me – and repeat Cassie Phillips’ phrase. Let them.

I’m no more able to change their beliefs than they are to change mine. Only I can do that for myself if they are no longer serving me, and it’s up to them to do likewise. Or not.

One of the key points I get from the phrase is that the illusion of control is a fickle master. It is an illusion, and being highly sensitive means I take things to heart more than most, so I need to double down on letting go of any notion of control.

I see more because of my sensitivity. I feel more. The urge to control a situation or person takes over because I’m often aware of things far more quickly and see where they’re heading before anyone else.

I’m a nightmare in the passenger’s seat of the car. I respond several seconds before the average driver, so I have to look away actively, or I’m literally on the edge of my seat, pushing my foot on an invisible brake.

It can also become a habit of future-forecasting, a mindset where you anticipate what will happen, usually negatively. As a highly sensitive person, I learned to trust my gut a long time ago, but there are times when this intuition is coloured by other factors, and I’m projecting my version of a future onto someone else.

During encounters with this particular group of women, I constantly remind myself to let them be—just let them be. They are who they are, and it’s not my responsibility to change their understanding of anything, including my sensitivity and beliefs.

A glutton for punishment, I regularly spend time with them. Not only is it an opportunity to be with them as they’re getting older – the eldest is not far off eighty – it’s a chance for me to practice all of the tools I have for remaining grounded, and letting them be who they are without allowing myself to become triggered.

Some days it’s more difficult than others, and it’s still best to steer clear of certain topics. As a recovering type A control freak, it’s definitely a challenge, but for the sake of my nervous system, emotional, and physical health, I know the only answer is to let them.

Our ability to control anything outside of ourselves is an illusion, and managing how we respond is the only thing we can control. We can let our emotions rule our responses, or we can take a moment to breathe deeply, calm ourselves, and respond from there.

I have to say, it’s definitely easier said than done, and boy, do family know how to push your buttons!

It helps me to remind myself to let them be who they are and to remember two basic beliefs that change everything.

I am enough.

I am love.

Both reveal control as the illusion it really is, and is, I think, what Cassie is ultimately saying in her poem.

How does the illusion of control show up for you, and what tactics do you use to let them?