The Illusion of Control
Why It Stands in the Way of True Balance
“Why are you sitting there tracking Life360?”
I looked up, a little annoyed, and replied, “Why are you watching me?”
In my head, though, I was asking Howard a different question: Why don’t you understand? This is what keeps our kids safe.
As Howard looked at me, I could see a mix of curiosity, irritation, amazement, and concern on his face. Then he said something that hit me like a ton of bricks:
“You might want to think about talking to your therapist about that. This isn’t healthy… What are you going to do when they go away to college or something?”
What I didn’t realize in my relentless quest to keep our children safe—even when they were beyond my immediate reach—was I was beginning to nest in fear-driven behaviors that, in the end, were reinforcing my anxiety, hypervigilance, and false sense of control. These behaviors weren’t truly keeping my children safe; they were keeping me trapped in a cycle of stress and emotional exhaustion trying to maintain this level of monitoring.
As I paused long enough to assess what was going on, I reluctantly took a step back, in doing so, I realized that I was engaging in three fear-driven behaviors.
Developing an obsession with tracking everyone’s location- This became an overwhelming compulsion. I would monitor their movements, even for the simplest trips, watching as they left the house for school, practice, rehearsal, or going to a friend’s house. This had nothing to do with trust in them—it was about my fear that something would happen and that I wouldn’t be there when they needed me or someone would not know how to get in contact with me.
Avoidance became a coping mechanism-For almost four months, I refused to drive past the intersection where my child’s accident occurred. Just the thought of being near that place triggered deep discomfort and emotional distress as visions of the scene emerged before my eyes. Avoidance was my way of keeping those emotions at bay, convincing myself that if I didn’t confront it, I wouldn’t have to feel it.
Masking control for helpfulness: I found myself unable to tolerate being away from my children or my husband. Even when traveling for work, whether I was one or three hours behind their time zone, I forced myself awake every morning to make sure everyone was up for school and where they needed to be. I had unknowingly created an environment where I needed to be the one holding everything together—as if I had all the answers, as if their safety depended solely on me.
“Functioning” daily in a state of alertness, constantly scanning for danger (PTSD haze)—even in ordinary situations was destroying me from the inside out. My brain would replay worst-case scenarios, especially when I was driving.I sought absolute control over my environment and those in it, clinging to rigid schedules and routines without allowing for any flexibility.
What I didn’t realize was, my need for control was stressing everyone, especially my husband. To him, my behavior could have easily been interpreted as a lack of confidence in his ability to handle things without me.
The Deeper Truth: Control Wasn’t New for Me
It would be easy to say that the traumatic event my family experienced nearly two years ago was the sole catalyst for my need for control. But that wouldn’t be the full truth (I am an expert when it comes to catastrophic thinking—my mind knows how to kill people off if anything in their routine gets altered and I haven’t heard from them).
For as long as I can remember, I have struggled with the need for control.
It doesn’t matter that I am a mental health clinician (the classic “Do as I say, not as I do” effect). For me, control has always been a well-worn accessory—that has been a source of nutrients for my anxiety.
Instead control often disguises itself as security, stability, and a necessary tool for success.
We convince ourselves that if we plan enough, stick to our schedules, anticipate every outcome, and manage every detail, we can protect ourselves from disappointment, uncertainty, or failure.
But when control becomes excessive, it shifts from a source of stability to a source of deep anxiety and exhaustion. Instead of bringing peace, it creates fear—fear of the unknown, fear of things not going according to plan, fear of losing the illusion of certainty.Over time, this obsession with managing every outcome cripples us, leading to emotional, mental, and even physical distress.
When Control Becomes a Prison it’s not like it is always recognizable.
What we fail to realize is, the more we try to control everything around us, the more anxious we become—why… life is unpredictable.
The hardest truth is, letting go of need to control things, situations, and people takes a daily commitment. An active choice to let go helps enjoy the freedom that comes with being in the present moment. So, in my final thoughts…
Control keeps you stuck, which makes you unaware of the great perspectives and people around you.
Control can easily become a self-imposed prison—limiting our ability to grow, adapt, and fully experience life.
When we base our security on manufactured structures, everything unexpected feels like a failure rather than a normal part of life.
Anxiety and control are two sides of the same coin. They create a ripple effect, impacting those around us in subtle and direct ways. When left unchecked, they create cycles where others absorb, adapt to, or even replicate the same behavior.
Control stifles our ability to adjust in difficult moments and prevents us from learning how to trust ourselves, others, and the process of life.
True security doesn’t come from tracking every move, preventing every risk, or micromanaging every outcome. It comes from building trust in yourself, your family, and centering the belief that you don’t have to hold everything together on your own.
Letting go of control doesn’t mean recklessness—it means creating space for peace.
“Although I am still working on how to adjust my relationship to control daily —for me, it’s no longer about existing, but learning how to fully live—by loosening each grip, one step at a time.”