On Control

Lack of control is one of the great lessons that Mercy’s death has taught me. I spent so much time running around trying to control everything in my life and congratulating myself on how well I did at this. It was only something that stopped me in my tracks that forced me to see how little I can control. That was a great deal of the depression I faced. The hardest task in returning to life has been returning to the truth of life that I have discovered, and for so long could not and did not want to face, that I am not in charge of life. I do not always trust that God is in charge of it, either. There are small things that I control, but it is good to see how small those things are.

In part, my obsession with triathlon is that I love to control as much as possible, and my body I control to some degree. I control doing a workout every day at my full capacity. But I do not control how well I do in races. I don’t know who my competition will be. I don’t know what challenges I will face in terms of weather, road conditions, mechanical failures, or illness. Triathlon has been a great microcosm of real life, the see-saw of control of giving up control. When I am most anxious about an upcoming race, I remind myself to let go. I have done as much as I can do, and the rest is not in my hands.

Life is like this, too. My anxiety is caused by an attempt to control too much, to want to be in charge of things I am not in charge of. My subconscious realizes the lack of control and feels unhappy about it. I have to slowly release my gripping fingers and allow myself to fall once more. I don’t know if God will catch me, but I can choose to enjoy the feeling of falling. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes I can take pleasure in not knowing, in not controlling, and merely letting life unfold around me.