The Limits of Control

I like the idea being in control of my life. To the extent possible, I prefer that the important decisions of my life (political, relationships, health, career, etc.) be made by me after careful consideration of all of the possibilities. I think this explains my general aversion to debt.  Not having any until relatively recently (with my mortgage) meant that for years I could realistically say with confidence, “If I don’t like my life here there is nothing to stop me from simply moving elsewhere”.

Of course, I recognize that here are limits to my control philosophy. Accidents happen; things you can’t predict. And of course, you generally can’t control what other people are going to do (to a certain extent – but that’s for another musing) and how you may have to respond. But, generally speaking, prior to becoming a parent I felt in control of my life more often than not.

Notice the “bus-sized” exception underlined above. Being a parent seems to have placed me in a position of absolute yet ridiculously fragile control over someone else. Together with Jen I tell Margot what to eat, where to sleep, what to wear. In brief, we pretty much dictate her entire day’s schedule. Yet when she got sick it all fell away so rapidly (note this is not the first time she’s been sick but it’s probably the worst). You know that it’s just a cold. Reason says it’s just a cold. But deep down you wonder – should I be doing anything else? Control turns to helplessness so quickly.

Margot is on the upswing again (fingers crossed). We made the right decisions I guess.