Confessions of a Recovering Control Freak

Nearly six months ago, my husband and I stood before God and our loved ones, ecstatic to become man and wife, hopeful about our future together, and momentarily impervious to life’s inevitable difficulties. Sitting here now, I have much to be thankful for–a roof over my head, food in the fridge, clothes to wear. My greatest blessing, though, is my husband, who continues to prove just how loving, caring, encouraging, and selfless he is. In fact, these nearly six months of marriage have been in some ways easier than I ever imagined. Other than a few minor instances of miscommunication, there haven’t been any significant disagreements between us. Some might call this concerning, while others might smile knowingly because we are still in the supposed “honeymoon phase,” but in my naiveté, I believe these peaceful months are all thanks to our taking one day at a time.

Life sounds great, right? What if I confessed that as wonderful as these months have been, this time has also been one of the most challenging for me? What if I confessed that I’m a control freak?

I’m in my early twenties, but I’m just now beginning to recognize my desire for control. As I reflect on it, I find this desire explains a significant number of my behaviors and motivations. I don’t like being out of control–in fact, if I am honest with myself, the few disagreements my husband and I have had in our marriage thus far are because of my desire for control. The time he (trying to be helpful), took over dinner and followed the recipe “out of order” upset me, not because he didn’t listen to my protest, but because he took my control away. Dinner turned out fine, and my husband showed his servant’s heart, but in that moment my tight grasp for control was loosened, and that’s what I chose to focus on.

One of my biggest struggles for control, however, came when I found myself unemployed. As a recent college graduate, one of my greatest fears was the dreaded post-grad job search. While I read statistics about the battle that awaited me and listened to skeptics denounce my English degree, I, in my pride and desire for control, kept telling myself I wouldn’t be a part of those statistics. Imagine how my fear was compounded after getting married and moving with my husband to another state without a job. Here I was, a newlywed with a brand-new degree and aspirations of becoming a writer, jobless, watching as one college friend after the other settled into a career.

Maybe I am being melodramatic, but surrendering control–or having it wrested from me–leaves me feeling helpless and vulnerable. Despite entering into marriage with the knowledge that my husband and I must first learn to rely on God and then on each other, I find myself resentful at times because of the knowledge that all I can do is trust in God. I know that sounds ridiculous, and it should. My worth should never rest in how much control I have—whether I have the money to pay my student loans, or whether I achieve my dream job. I may feel weak in my vulnerability, but that vulnerability is what brings me closer into my heavenly Father’s loving arms, just as it brings me closer into my husband’s. Giving up control is hard. Letting go and just trusting seems nearly impossible at times.

And yet regardless of where I stand in life, I am reminded of Scriptures that tell me to “pray without ceasing” and to “give thanks in all circumstances” (1 Thess. 5:17-18 ESV). My heavenly Father  is in control, and he knows my needs and cares for me. He will lead me “beside still waters” as he “restores my soul” (Ps. 23:2-3). I may point an accusatory finger toward heaven at times, but that is because I have failed to see the beauty and freedom that comes from knowing my loving Father has a plan for me, not because he has failed to provide. He is in control. While his plan often includes suffering, that suffering gives way to a vulnerability that allows me to see through the fog and recognize that my Jesus loves me. My suffering reminds me to not worry because if the birds of the air and the lilies of the field are taken care of, how much more will my heavenly Father take care of me, his daughter and image bearer (Matt. 6:26-30)?

I think I know the answer to that question, and it begins with falling on my knees and surrendering.

Joellen Wood is a recent graduate and newlywed who loves literature, writing, watching old movies, and being a voice of encouragement. She and her husband reside in beautiful upstate New York. She likes to reflect on life and all of its ordinary and extraordinariness at jomarchmeetsmrbingley.com.

Photograph © Josh Applegate, used with permission

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