Am I Trying To Control What Is Actually out of My Control?

When you’ve been hurt, heartbroken, or betrayed, it’s so easy to fall into thought spirals. Let me explain what I mean by that. I’ll often have a fear, triggered by something small, and my mind will immediately jump to the worst-case scenario. I’ve become an expert at imagining the worst outcomes. If you’re ever curious about the worst possible scenario, you can call me—I’ll have one in mind instantly.

In the past, I could control these thoughts by reminding myself that worst-case scenarios rarely happen. For example, just because someone doesn’t call back doesn’t mean they’ve been in a terrible car accident. But over the past ten years, my family has endured so much pain and heartbreak that I no longer believe I can dismiss these fears. Now, I can’t tell myself that worst-case scenarios are unlikely—because they do happen.

Perhaps you’ve been in a similar situation. One night, while journaling, I realized that my thought spirals were my way of trying to regain control. I don’t consider myself a controlling person—unless we’re talking about card games—but I never linked control issues with my struggles with trust.

As I wrote, I realized something: when I don’t trust, I try to control. It’s a powerful statement, but it’s true. I wanted to share a passage from my book, I Want to Trust You, But I Don’t. Trying to control situations doesn’t seem so bad on the surface. We all want to prevent bad things from happening. But I tend to slip into unhealthy patterns when I try to control things that are beyond my reach.

I think, if I can stop bad things from happening, I won’t need to rely on anyone else. I won’t have to face the terrifying unknowns that come with trusting others—or even God, who sometimes allows confusing or devastating things to happen. But my desire to control is an illusion, and it’s prideful to think that I know what’s best.

The most fragile parts of my heart—the ones that tremble with fear at the thought of more pain—keep urging me to try, as if this time, I’ll be the one to hold everything together. But trust often feels like a betrayal of my best efforts to manage the chaos when others seem oblivious to the risks.

I don’t physically control people, but my need to manage situations comes from wanting to protect myself. I find myself wanting to offer advice, warn others, and steer conversations toward what I believe is best. It’s not that I want to control their actions—I just want to control the things that feel out of control to regain some sense of peace and security.

But in the end, I realize this: I can’t control other people’s decisions, and I certainly can’t control the outcomes. My thought spirals stem from trying to control something that’s completely beyond my reach, and that’s where the real struggle begins.