Control
Guess who's back? Wait - what? No. Guess again. Yep, that's right. Me!! I have missed doing this blog post and communicating with y'all. I have missed purposely tapping into this messed up brain of mine weekly. I have missed sharing my innermost thoughts with you and receiving your feedback (even if your feedback is that my innermost thoughts are totally messed up). I have heard from so many people over the past few months that they miss my ramblings and wish I would just get back to it already. So, to feed a small part of my creative soul, I am resuming this blog. Enjoy!
_________________________________________________________________
Hello, my name is Twila and I have control issues.
I may not attend a 12-step program, but my daily struggles with needing to control all things around me are oh-so-real. To complete the package of me, I am also stubborn, strong-willed, and when angry, I have the mouth of a trucker. I am a Type A personality, as well as a perfectionist, and I may have a few OCD tendencies. Yep, all wrapped up in a five-foot body, we can all agree that I am Quite. A. Catch. Handy Hubby lucked out when he caught me, yes he did.
All joking aside though, I have control issues. I know that I am not alone in this struggle. I have met many other people that bear the weight of this affliction. These people and I (dare I call them my people) could sit in a room for hours kibitzing, only leaving when we all feel vindicated that the world is a better place due to our iron fist of authority.
But let's not lose track of why I am writing this blog post. I am not attempting to lament any of my above mentioned attributes. I am proud to exhibit all of those things (well maybe not the trucker mouth so much) - they make up the whole of who I am. If I lose any one of those attributes, the other parts of my soul will just not make any sense.
Now, as I have grown older, I have learned to respect those parts of my personality, to live with them, grow with them and to use them to my advantage (yes, there are some advantages to having a trucker mouth).
This blog post, though, is about how those already mentioned parts of me have had to begrudgingly evolve when I became a mother eight years ago. And then a mother a second time four years ago. This blog post is about the adaption of my control issues, allowing me to be a good mother to my two little girls.
According to the Oxford dictionary, the definition of control is "the power to influence or direct people's behavior or the course of events". In my life, in my children's lives, in my husbands life, I want to live that definition. Not just live it - I want to roll around in it after covering my clothes in honey. Many years into marriage though, I came to realise that if I still wanted Handy Hubby to like me, I needed to ease up on my need to control his actions. Since he is still around, I guess I have been relatively successful at that.
But in the case of my Little's, where is that fine line between controlling the world around them and allowing the reigns of control to drop? If I control too much of their lives, they will not be the independent girls that grow to be the independent women that I am charged to raise. If I do not allow the reigns to drop, they will never experience pain, loneliness, or rejection. Without knowing these emotions, how will they know how to pick themselves up, dust themselves off and try again?
Control issues as a parent are so much bigger than just teaching them to keep their toys in the designated toy areas (which always tend to be devoid of the toys, yet the rest of the house isn't), or how not to drench the entire bathroom when faced with the seemingly big task of just washing their hands. It's knowing when to control as a guide, when to control as a teacher, and when to control as a parent - all wrapped up in each and every situation faced. It's when to let their feelings get hurt, when to force them to apologize when they are wrong and when to smile proudly when they can pronounce large, hard words when reading to an audience after repeatedly making them practice those words over and over again.
My girls are starting the journey of finding their real personalities. I sometimes see such strong glimpses of who they are becoming that it takes my breath away. But it also reminds me to back off, to breathe and however much I want to take over a situation or correct a perceived fault, I need to let them follow through, no matter the consequences. My control issues need to remain just that - mine. Because if they don't, I am going to miss out on so much of their lives, as well as the happiness of seeing them rise to the challenge of life. And who wants to miss out on that? JCMT
_________________________________________________________________
Hello, my name is Twila and I have control issues.
I may not attend a 12-step program, but my daily struggles with needing to control all things around me are oh-so-real. To complete the package of me, I am also stubborn, strong-willed, and when angry, I have the mouth of a trucker. I am a Type A personality, as well as a perfectionist, and I may have a few OCD tendencies. Yep, all wrapped up in a five-foot body, we can all agree that I am Quite. A. Catch. Handy Hubby lucked out when he caught me, yes he did.
All joking aside though, I have control issues. I know that I am not alone in this struggle. I have met many other people that bear the weight of this affliction. These people and I (dare I call them my people) could sit in a room for hours kibitzing, only leaving when we all feel vindicated that the world is a better place due to our iron fist of authority.
But let's not lose track of why I am writing this blog post. I am not attempting to lament any of my above mentioned attributes. I am proud to exhibit all of those things (well maybe not the trucker mouth so much) - they make up the whole of who I am. If I lose any one of those attributes, the other parts of my soul will just not make any sense.
Now, as I have grown older, I have learned to respect those parts of my personality, to live with them, grow with them and to use them to my advantage (yes, there are some advantages to having a trucker mouth).
This blog post, though, is about how those already mentioned parts of me have had to begrudgingly evolve when I became a mother eight years ago. And then a mother a second time four years ago. This blog post is about the adaption of my control issues, allowing me to be a good mother to my two little girls.
According to the Oxford dictionary, the definition of control is "the power to influence or direct people's behavior or the course of events". In my life, in my children's lives, in my husbands life, I want to live that definition. Not just live it - I want to roll around in it after covering my clothes in honey. Many years into marriage though, I came to realise that if I still wanted Handy Hubby to like me, I needed to ease up on my need to control his actions. Since he is still around, I guess I have been relatively successful at that.
But in the case of my Little's, where is that fine line between controlling the world around them and allowing the reigns of control to drop? If I control too much of their lives, they will not be the independent girls that grow to be the independent women that I am charged to raise. If I do not allow the reigns to drop, they will never experience pain, loneliness, or rejection. Without knowing these emotions, how will they know how to pick themselves up, dust themselves off and try again?
Control issues as a parent are so much bigger than just teaching them to keep their toys in the designated toy areas (which always tend to be devoid of the toys, yet the rest of the house isn't), or how not to drench the entire bathroom when faced with the seemingly big task of just washing their hands. It's knowing when to control as a guide, when to control as a teacher, and when to control as a parent - all wrapped up in each and every situation faced. It's when to let their feelings get hurt, when to force them to apologize when they are wrong and when to smile proudly when they can pronounce large, hard words when reading to an audience after repeatedly making them practice those words over and over again.
My girls are starting the journey of finding their real personalities. I sometimes see such strong glimpses of who they are becoming that it takes my breath away. But it also reminds me to back off, to breathe and however much I want to take over a situation or correct a perceived fault, I need to let them follow through, no matter the consequences. My control issues need to remain just that - mine. Because if they don't, I am going to miss out on so much of their lives, as well as the happiness of seeing them rise to the challenge of life. And who wants to miss out on that? JCMT
Comments
Post a Comment