Dear control, I'm writing to let you know that I’d love to “control” you!

Out of all the challenges life throws at us, this one hits particularly close to home for me: the need for control. Not the healthy kind — the kind that wants to manage everything. So much so that even drinking too much or smoking can trigger an internal alarm, like my inner control freak is permanently on standby, ready to panic. It’s… a lot.

To be clear, control itself isn’t the enemy. Having structure around your finances, your time, or your general direction in life can be grounding and supportive. That’s not what I’m talking about here. I’m talking about the kind of control we crave over things we cannot control — especially other people. I'm referring to the control you want over anything other than yourself.

Why is control over the outcome of relationships the hardest to achieve?

For someone like me, who finds comfort in certainty, relationships are the hardest place to loosen the grip. Because relationships are where control goes to die — and I hate that.

Quick disclaimer: We’re not talking about those clear-cut cases where your partner’s actions are straight-up shady. Instead, we’re venturing into the realm of overactive imaginations and the occasional paranoia.

You meet someone. Everything feels light. And then you start to care. Which, for control freaks, feels dangerously close to losing control. You don’t know where it’s going. You don’t have a 150% guarantee it’ll work. And that uncertainty is unbearable.

Why do we need this certitude so badly?

The brain is wired to seek certainty. When it can’t find it naturally, it manufactures it. By pulling away. By sabotaging — ignoring, suffocating, testing. Or by ending things entirely, often without a concrete reason. Because if you end it, at least you controlled the outcome. Or so it feels.

Or maybe you stay — and the questions start:

Who are they texting?

Why did we only see each other for two hours instead of four?

Where are they? Who are they with?

If they choose their friend today, will they always choose someone else over me?

Will they love me next month? Next year?

Would they love me if I were thinner, bigger, different, a lizard?

But is this the same as wanting control over others?

All the elements outlined earlier, including jealousy, originate from a need for control. It’s about wanting to control another's thoughts and actions to manipulate outcomes. This is the control you might not even know you're using. Yet, it’s still referred to as control because, even if you are not technically doing anything to control, you have the desire to know if someone is doing anything that can lead to something out of your control.

Here’s the hard truth — and it was hard for me too: excessive control often points to a lack of self-trust. It’s not that you don’t trust others. It’s that you don’t trust yourself to handle what might happen if things don’t go the way you want.

Control is a way to avoid being surprised, hurt, rejected, or humiliated. It’s an attempt to protect yourself by knowing everything in advance. But that protection is an illusion.

This is the biggest lie we tell ourselves

And here’s the biggest lie we tell ourselves: control is real. It isn’t. You cannot control people. You cannot control outcomes. You cannot prevent betrayal, change, or loss by asking for more reassurance.

If someone wants to lie, cheat, or leave — they will. You can’t stop it.

And if you stay authentic and focused on yourself, the truth will surface anyway.

The reality is that when there’s a blind spot about your self-worth and a deficit of self-trust, even daily reassurance from someone won’t alleviate the constant anxiety. What’s more troubling is that even if you’re receiving daily reassurance (which might falsely seem like having control), there’s always the possibility of something entirely unpredictable and unexpected occurring one day, contradicting everything you were reassured about daily. So my question to you is, was that reassurance true? Were you actually ever in control of anything?

What I’m aiming to convey is that nothing concerning others is truly within your control, even if it may seem that way superficially. You can’t dictate how people will behave, their actions, their future selves, their role in your relationships, or how they will express their love for you moving forward.

Is there anything I can control?

This is the good part.

You always have control over yourself. Your reactions. Your boundaries. Your values. Your presence. Your needs. Your capacity to love. The person you are becoming. The kind of relationship you are willing to participate in.

When you feel the urge to control someone else, try shifting back to yourself:

• Use grounding affirmations.

  Repeat what steadies you: What’s meant for me will stay. I cannot control others. I trust myself to handle what comes.

• Redefine trust.

  I once heard Iyanla Vanzant say, “You don’t need to trust others. You need to trust yourself — that no matter what happens, you will be okay.”

  That changed everything for me.

• Stop and create.

  Put the phone down. Don’t text. Don’t ask. Create something — makeup, movement, writing, food, a project. Creativity is the opposite of control. It brings you back to yourself.

• Write it out.

  Ask yourself: What am I trying to control? What am I afraid of? Will control actually give me what I want?

  Be honest. No judgement.

• Imagine it’s your daughter.

  If someone you loved felt this way, what would you tell her? Perspective has a way of cutting through noise.

This isn’t a quick fix. It’s a practice. Like building muscle — it takes repetition, patience, and consistency. But over time, the grip loosens. And in that space, something better appears: trust. Presence. And a version of you that doesn’t need to control in order to feel safe.