The Illusion Of Control

When I was in the thick of perimenopause, one of the visitors I hadn't encountered since I was a teenager came back with a full force.

"I'm here." It was my old friend, anxiety.

And if you've ever had an encounter with this same friend, you know the feeling.

It arrives suddenly and uninvited, and it sits directly on your chest and refuses to be ignored.

It makes your heart race when nothing is actually happening.

And what struck me the most wasn't just the feeling, it was what I did next.

I tried to control everything.

"It's a scheduling issue," I thought at first.

"I'm just overwhelmed, that's all." So my schedule became tighter, my planning became more precise.

My lists got longer, more detailed, more color-coded.

I started anticipating everything.

What's a good remedy for uncertainty? Certainty, of course.

So conversations, deadlines, outcomes.

I was trying to stay one step ahead of whatever this feeling was.

On the outside, it looked like productivity, but inside it felt like survival.

"And if I could just get ahead of it," I thought, "I wouldn't have to feel it." But anxiety doesn't work like that.

The more I try to organize my way out of it, the more it followed me around.

It didn't matter how early I woke up, how prepared I was, how many scenarios I ran through in my mind, the feeling still showed up.

And that's when I realized something really uncomfortable.

The planning wasn't solving the anxiety, it was just disguising it.

There's a moment that happens with anxiety where control feels like the answer.

There's this thought that says, "If I can just tighten everything, manage everything, predict everything, everything will be okay.

I'll be okay." But what we're really doing is trying to make uncertainty disappear, and life doesn't work like that.