I am (Not) in Control

My biggest fear as a mother is that at any moment, harm could happen to my children. I kept mine in a protective bubble to guard both their innocence and their safety. I knew what they were doing and with whom. Privileges granted were based not just on how responsible they were, but if these new privileges would make me worry. In retrospect, I inserted my approval into much of their childhood. I needed to keep them safe, and I wanted them always to follow the rules, do the right things, to be good. These goals required much oversight.

I did not recognize the controlling parent in myself. It was easy for me to justify having a firm hand with my children to be the best method of parenting. Wasn’t it better to keep control and prevent problems rather than to manage those problems after the fact? It seemed to be merely the difference between being proactive and reactive in parenting. Parenting isn’t supposed to be easy, but above all else, I knew that I must win the battles. I applied the unwritten rule that it is never okay to lose an argument to a child because it will begin a pattern of them beating you down. However, I did not understand that parenting this way made my son feel hopeless.

I viewed my parenting as “good parenting.” Parents make sacrifices when they have children: time, energy, money, friends, opportunities. They sacrifice themselves in the name of love. To me, it was the deal I made when I became a mother. The irony is that I believed I was sacrificing myself, my comforts, my energy, and my stress levels to parent them into being what I expected. Because of the continual sacrifices I made with my son, in particular, it was easy to grow angry and even resentful when he did not behave in the manner expected. I was frustrated because I had such little time for me (being on top of everything the child did allows little time for other things). When he deviated from the plan, I had to sacrifice even more of myself to right the ship.

I would venture to say that all parents desire the same goals for their children. It is how they are communicated that become controlling. For me, that is the struggle. I take it personally when lied to, disrespected, or am the object of downright defiance, even if it is because my child does not want to be controlled. At that moment I don’t see the child I love, I see the problem that must be corrected. Because of my anger, problems compound. Not only am I dealing with a child that won’t get out of bed, for example, but now I notice that the bedroom is a mess, clothes are all over the floor, and dirty dishes are in the room. I am insulted over being ignored and angry about the other newly discovered issues. That reinforces my fear of my rules being inconsequential. Now, it is personal. My immediate thoughts about my child are, “You and your temper will not control me or sidetrack my whole day because you are ignoring me and my rules. This total lack of respect will change my schedule. Am I going to accomplish the things on my list to do today, or am I going to parent, to hold this child accountable?” Because I will parent every time, I then grow angry because my day just got hijacked! As I try to control the situation, my ego gets in the way.

With much help, my family has broken most of our habitual ways of dealing with control. The answers are simple yet challenging. They sound like empty platitudes but can change the stress and frustration in an instant. I now practice letting go, not letting those insulting actions get the better of me. Mindful breathing helps me to find calmness when my heart races from the frustration. It allows me to relax my tensed muscles and open the clenched fists, somehow at my side. I close my eyes, take a concentrated, deep breath (or several sometimes) through my nose and hold it until my lungs tingle for just a moment. As I slowly release it, gone is the tension in my shoulders and the tunnel vision that I didn’t even realize was there. I practice empathy instead of taking it all personally. I hear my self-talk, “My child needs to make mistakes! How else do children learn?” I have learned that if I am the parent that must always win, must always be right, then what does that make my child? It makes him a loser time after time after time. I do not aspire to raise a loser.

Let go of the perfectionism, the parenting out of fear of being judged. People will always judge. If my kid does everything correctly because he is under my control, people will think I am too harsh. If my kid screws up royally, they will believe that I don’t have control over my kid. Both statements are true. However, it is in the empathy that I use–putting myself in his place, wondering how he feels when all he hears are barking orders- that makes me pause. I soften both my voice and my glaring eyes and try again.

Wise advice was given to me by a therapist. He said rules without a relationship is a very lonely place to be. I realize that I was more concerned about my ego than how my child felt. I got so caught up in being right that I lost track of the relationship that was dissolving in front of me.

Control isn’t the same as caring. It is possible to show you care and still be concerned about safety without the control. Somehow, it doesn’t seem natural to let go of it. Honestly, it is a concentrated effort every time. I have many self-talks to remind me that it isn’t on me if my child fails. At some point, he will be an adult and not have me hovering over him. How will he succeed if I haven’t taught him how to recover from failing? I learned that the more constricted my child felt, the more he acted out. When I did not allow him to express his feelings, and I did not listen with empathy, we all lost. I couldn’t see it because I was too busy telling him what to do, how to do it, and that it wasn’t good enough.

We are not perfect yet. However, I like where we are now much better than where we were. It was exhausting, thinking I am responsible for every decision made. I am not a fortune teller. Why would I think I could prevent bad things from happening? What I can do is teach how to handle the situations when they come. They will always come. As of now, we have made significant improvements to salvage our relationship. It was a hard lesson learned, and one I hope never to repeat.