‘People who feel the need to control others, don’t have control over themselves.’ ~ Author Unknown
My Christmas decorating this year got as far as carrying the artificial tree downstairs and plugging it in. I have no inclination to rummage through boxes in the chilly attic to find the ornaments, so it’s just a tree with lights, and that’s sufficient.
How far I’ve come from the year my teenage children clamored to decorate the tree by themselves. From the time they were small, I’d carefully curated the tree decorations according to a new annual theme, chosen by me. I took great pride in turning the family Christmas tree into a work of art. The year the children wanted to do the decorating, I hesitated and then gave in (with four teenagers and a preteen in my house that year I was tired of arguing). They were thrilled. Late that night, when everyone had gone to bed, I sat in front of a tree that looked like a large, blind, very drunk elf had vomited every ornament from every theme I’d collected for a decade, and I cried.
I wanted so much to control the narrative, to craft and create and foster the perfect Christmas experience I’d lost the spirit of the thing entirely. Packages had to be exactly wrapped, with matching paper and fancy bows. The house had to be decorated “just so.” The family Christmas card had to be perfect, displaying an image of the family I imagined having, not the one I actually had. It wasn’t about joy, or celebration, or relationship, it was about me and what I wanted/needed to satisfy my own deep insecurities about my place in the world. That’s a hard realization to come to. I share it because I know I’m not alone in that struggle.
Control issues ramp up around the holidays in response to many things — old traumas, the desire to do better, old-fashioned competitiveness, nostalgia, memories of Christmas past and the need to create the ideal Christmas-present. Resentment and disappointment and distress swirl as blended families and new families with little ones try to figure out how to spend enough time with all the in-laws and exes, new grandbabies, adult children who’d rather be with their friends, newlyweds who want to start their own holiday traditions. It can get ugly. And it’s all about control. Or, rather, a lack of self-control and self-awareness as to why we’re so insistent about doing things a certain way.
All of our efforts to control others — how they dress, what they do, how and when and where they worship, what they read or watch or what kind of music they listen to, what kind of family they choose to have, who they love, what they eat and drink, when and where and how they sleep (and with whom) — all of those efforts at control stem from our own insecurity and anxiety.
When we are dictating and micromanaging and manipulating and legislating, we are simply projecting our need for order and certainty onto those around us. We attempt to exert control where we lack it within.
When you have internal control over your own thoughts, feelings and actions, you don’t need to fight for external control over others. You’re free to let others choose for themselves, and you’re able to trust that whatever higher power is helping you control yourself is capable of helping them, without your managerial interference.
Does that sound like a foreign concept? Does the thought of letting go of control send chills down your spine? That’s a pretty good indicator your own insecurity is running the show. As they say, “let go and let God.” There’s no better time of year to practice that than Christmas.