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My 13th letter: Is my need for control creating my worthiness?

What is it that makes us the parents and people we are today? What have we learned from our past that shapes who we embody every day—the emotions we handpick, the self-talk, both good and bad, that we inherit, and the impact of what we pass on?

need for control

I sit silently after an early morning walk, listening to the birds and watching the world wake up. As nature goes about its business—the rustling and movement of life around me and the cold breeze brushing against my cheeks—I am struck by a humbling thought. We are simply a speck of light in the grand experience of life. In the entire world and the millions of years that will come after us, we are indeed just a speck.

Recently, the word control has come up a few times—whether it's a need for control in our plans for the caravan, the future, the daily chores, or life in general if I am totally honest. I realise control plays a huge part in how I operate in life. So the question is, what is the meaning behind the control? If we are simply a speck in the grand picture of life, what is the reason for needing to control so much? What does it actually feed? I was listening to a podcast with Mel Robbins and Dr Shefali, and she said, "The need for control comes from a place of—'I'm not good enough.'"

When I heard this, it stayed with me for a few days. Is this my reason behind control? Does it feed the cup of feeling worthy when I have, as so many say, "everything together"?

I know that when people admire and compliment the cleanliness of my home (or caravan), Amelia's behaviour, or the 'success' of being able to travel, work, and still have quality time as a family, I love it. In all honesty, it makes me feel worthy and like I matter when I hear it.

I realise that I do, in fact, often think that I must and can control everything—that if I control it, I will be worthy of the admiration and praise. But it also means that I can blame everyone else for any of my situations (out of my control), for my frustrations or anger in life because things didn't go "to plan." It also allows me to believe that I gave up so much to be a mother and have a child, that I wear the badge of "mother—the selfless one," believing that I am the one who "does it all, keeps us together; if I don't have it all under control, everything falls apart; the most selfless, the most giving, the most caring"—the list is endless, and I feel ashamed.

Dr Shefali says that the biggest awakening we can have as parents is to realise that we had our children to fulfil our own worthiness, that we use them to play out our desires and dreams, that we can control this other person, being the master puppeteer in their life, so that we can proclaim to our parents, "You see—I am worthy." I can clearly see that my worthiness sits in my ability to control.

Wow, now that little dark shadow is one most of us would run screaming away from, and as I write it, I hope and pray for a distraction… nothing. I need to find out. Where do my worthiness and requirement for control come from? Because when we actually think about it, the more we want to control, the more chaos we create. This reality became apparent when we decided to take a ride in a little canoe at the campground where we are currently staying. I was stiff, wide-legged, and constantly trying to stay centred and in control as the little canoe swayed. I was so conscious of adjusting my balance that I was actually making it worse—eventually, Jorge said, "Let go, just relax; you can't control the boat; you need to just accept the movement - trying to control the movement will result in you over correcting and making it worse." I couldn't, and I got out so they could canoe around the little lake together. I was so disappointed in myself.

As I sit here quietly, realising that my control is actually a chaos creator, I can see now that I have paraded the badge of "mother, worker, wife." I eagerly waited for the light and admiration I thought I deserved for all I gave up, sacrificed, and did for my family and daughter to be bestowed on me. I have been slapped in the face with this notion, and I am grateful for this awakening.


My gorgeous little girl is here as her own wonderful human, and my sole responsibility is to be present with her, to love her wholeheartedly, and to ensure she feels seen, worthy, and loved. But how do I offer her this simple human act when I am still trying to uncover my worthiness—that I am still searching for approval in all my actions and decisions?

It all starts with looking at our past and understanding why we lost our worthiness. We are all born whole but seem to crack as the years pass. So when did my cracks start to appear? Every human is doing the best they can with the knowledge they have. I am empathetic to the upbringing of my parents and the hard times they had to endure—through wars, scarcity, and lost loved ones. If I can even begin to imagine what they went through, I would start to understand, perhaps, how their upbringing bled into how they parented and, in turn, how I parent.

The need to feel worthy, swallowed up for my dad with a big Belgian family, with lots of pride, the hardships through a war—we can only imagine what that would feel like. For my mum, being an only child, always feeling the need to make her mum and dad proud, she always felt she owed it to her parents—that they gave up so much for her, and in turn, she lacked her worthiness. It's funny when you sit in a place of empathy for your parents (who are only human). Is it then that you begin to see the cracks of your childhood and upbringing, unsure where to find a space to be truly seen?

When I do family healing sessions with my clients, I use a particular phrase when we ask the inner children to come out and speak—to be heard, seen, and understood. Once they have spoken, I ask my clients to say the following sentence: "I am your parent now, and I give you this and that."


I have always felt the liberation from every client when they say it aloud and give themselves permission to let go and be their inner child's parent, filled with unconditional love. I have always understood the significance when we say that statement, but I feel now that I truly understand its power—not just for my clients, but for me too.


So, what is your purpose and reason for control? What emotion or desire does it feed? Are you using your children as your 'worthiness banner' in life? And if you don't have kids, are you still finding ways to please your parents and show them: "You see, I made it; I am enough"? I ask you these questions with my deepest love for you all—if we are ever to change the future, we need to address, heal, and understand our past. It is time to find ourselves, to love ourselves and all those around us as unique, beautiful humans who we have the privilege of knowing and loving, and to relinquish control and enjoy being the little rays of sunbeams in this thing we call life.

"Sometimes you don't realise the weight of something you've been carrying until you feel the weight of its release." — Unknown.





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