The illusion of control: thoughts from a hospital bed
Just over two weeks ago I had emergency surgery due to an ongoing condition I have called Crohn’s. Since my diagnosis over 11 years ago, I’ve managed the condition with medication and the need for surgery wasn’t even raised as a possibility until recently.
It all happened very quickly.
In the days that followed the operation, as I lay in the hospital bed, I got some fresh perspective on an issue that’s been on my mind for quite a while: control.
On being a control freak
Being in control. Staying in control. Not allowing things to get out of control. I’ve been a control freak since I was a kid.
My methods for control centre around information, systems and planning. Faced with a new situation I default into problem-solving mode, gathering the facts and analysing the variables until I come up with an answer, a strategy, something that makes sense of it all and maps out the logical next steps to take.
Finding (or perhaps, more accurately, creating) order gives me a sense of certainty, of safety, of comfort.
However, my journey into mindful business has highlighted, more than ever before, the downsides of being a control freak.
I’ve come to recognise when I’m stuck in analysis paralysis – unable to discern the ‘one right path’ amongst many possibilities, and unable move forward without such certainty. And I’ve seen how following only ‘safe paths’ denies me the opportunity to really exercise my creative and intuitive potential.
Which brings me to the hospital bed…
When I realise control is an illusion
It was really hard. Like I said, the surgery happened very quickly and I wasn’t prepared (read: I hadn’t done my usual fact gathering and analysis) for what recovery from a major operation could entail.
I was frustrated I wasn’t getting better ‘fast’ enough (yes, after only a day or two!). And there were a few backward steps along the way that left me feeling desperate – why was this happening to me?
That’s when I realised, in one of those moments of startling clarity, that there was no timetable. No ordered step A, then step B, then step C that I could follow through with certainty of the outcome. Bodies are different, recoveries are different and people are different. And thinking I could ‘control’ anything was truly an illusion. Not just in the hospital bed, but in life.
Thing is, really comprehending this was not as panic-inducing nor depressing as I had previously feared. It was a relief.
Because constant problem-solving can be really tiring
I have to thank a family member for me really getting this. They were calling me in hospital and asking a lot of questions: Why did the doctor think such and such was happening? What could we expect next? Why didn’t they tell me about that two days ago?
My relative wanted me to be better and they wanted to know when that was going to happen. And it was exhausting.
I told them that what I needed was to focus on where I was right now, what I could do (and what help I could accept) right now to take care of me, and not worry about what happened yesterday or what might happen tomorrow.
Now, that was a moment.
Because I could have said the exact same thing to myself countless times before. Times when I was running my mind ragged trying to anticipate and guard against any problem that might arise in my business or life. Times when obsessing about the ‘why?’ and the ‘what if?’ left me incapable of actually doing what I needed to do – for me and my business.
And not problem-solving can be incredibly freeing
The amazing thing was that as I began to recover, in the spaciousness of not controlling and not managing and not planning, all sorts of ideas occurred to me. Things I wanted to do, to write about, to bring into my business. And it was light and fun and filled with energy.
It’s a slippery realisation, one that’s hard to hold onto as I move back into the day-to-day scheduling that’s absolutely necessary in a business. Because, of course, managing and planning must happen.
But I hope I can remember that ‘controlling’ my world is not just an illusion, it’s a burden I can do without.
3 Responses
October 26th, 2009 at 7:42 am
All of us Type-A personalities struggle with this all the time. It’s terrible that it usually takes some life altering event, like a surgery, to help us see clearly, even if only briefly.
Take care of yourself.
October 26th, 2009 at 3:18 pm
This resonates so much with my (very similar) experience of ‘losing the illusion of control’ by virtue of my body asserting its own reality on what I thought of as ‘my’ world. Your post reminds me of a recent conversation at the KaosPilots on the theme of ‘design’. I found myself concerned that the idea of design was used by some as a notion of asserting an idea on and in the world, of manipulating things towards an envisaged end or goal. It seems to me that events like this put the lie to at least part of this notion.
So I found myself asking: what if the word ‘design’ suddenly disappeared from the English language? What alternative words or terms might be used which carry less of the baggage of ‘control’? I surprised myself by coming up with a list of about ten alternatives. Top of the list? The idea of *appropriate response* – that is, given a (design) problem, how do we most skilfully respond, in the context and environment we find ourselves, using the tools and techniques which are available to us? ‘Design’ becomes a process of intelligent response, rather than a process of imposing our will on the world.
And life itself can be seen in this way as a design problem, don’t you think?
October 27th, 2009 at 9:11 am
@Jon: I hear you on the Type A personality struggle – thanks for stopping by :)
@Michael: Absolutely yes to ‘appropriate response’. Because the alternative to trying to control is *not* becoming completely passive and letting whatever happens simply happen.
Releasing the idea of control, and the associated struggle to hold onto both the past and future simultaneously, frees you to be present now and *respond appropriately* now.
There was one particular situation in hospital where I was very unhappy with one of the treatments and I insisted that it be stopped. After a lot of discussion they agreed it was my decision to make and stopped it. It was absolutely the right decision and I felt much better almost immediately.
That decision was based on my deep sense of what *I* needed – physically and emotionally – without the burden of trying to make the decision fit into a larger ‘rational’ narrative – such as one where I as the good patient would accept whatever treatment was given to me.
By contrast, the nurse was more interested in defending her position on why she had started it in the first place – she was locked into a ‘control’ or ‘order’ mentality.
Thanks so much for contributing to the conversation Michael :)
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