You Were Never in Control

The Illusion of Control

Control. It’s that one thing we all think we need. We crave it. We grip the metaphorical (and literal) armrests when turbulence hits, because suddenly we feel powerless. The truth is, though, we were never in control. Not really.

Even if you're the one flying the plane, hands on the controls, eyes on the gauges, you’re still at the mercy of things like the wind, a chaotic force no one can fully tame. (Yes, I know about the shady weather manipulation theories, but for the sake of this argument, let’s just say the wind does whatever it wants.)

We live under the assumption that we have control over our lives, but really, the only thing we’ve got a solid grip on is our own mind and even that’s a stretch for some. People might say, “Well, you control your body,” and I’d respond: kinda.

Tell that to someone who gets hit with explosive diarrhea out of nowhere. Or to an elite athlete who ends up with double lung failure despite never smoking a cigarette in their life. (Shout out to Ben Askren, wishing you a full recovery, man.)

So Why Do We Cling to Control?

Simple. Because if I’m in control, nothing bad can happen right?

You walk to the coffee shop, order your sugar bomb of a drink, and BAM. Bus. Not because you did anything wrong. Just because that’s how the world works sometimes.

This isn’t meant to scare you. I’m not here saying we’re all just corks bobbing in the ocean of fate. I’m just saying we think we’re in control, and we really aren’t.

Let me give you a real-world example.

I was having a solid day in Bozeman. Took the car in for an oil change, hit up the Museum of the Rockies. Then out of nowhere, the check engine light comes on, and the whole dashboard lights up like a Christmas tree. I get it over to AutoZone, read the code random misfire. Cool, spark plugs. Swap those out, and everything’s green again.

I’d also ordered coil packs just in case, but they wouldn’t arrive until the next day. So I drove the hour and 45 minutes back to my bus, waited, then got the call that they’d come in. Back to Bozeman I go. Quick swap, easy enough.

Then 20 minutes into the drive home boom. Lights come on again. I’m in a no signal area. No tools in the car. So I turn back. AutoZone scan says under boosted turbo.

Nowhere in that whole day did I have control. I had plans. But I didn’t have control.

What I did have, though, was the ability to choose how I responded. Freaking out wouldn’t have fixed my turbo. Wallowing wouldn’t have gotten me back to camp. So I cleared the code, drove safe, and started thinking about the next step. That was my choice. That was the only control I really had.

Situational Awareness Over Control

People sometimes say, “How can you live like that? You must be constantly afraid.”

I wouldn’t call it fear. I’d call it awareness. I check both directions before turning onto a one-way street. Not because I’m paranoid, but because I don’t trust other people and I know chaos has no schedule.

It’s not about fear. It’s about preparation.

Letting go of the illusion of control is freeing. When you stop trying to control everything, you open yourself up to respond with clarity instead of panic. You become more adaptable, more resilient. And you stop wasting brainpower trying to micromanage the universe.

Your brain already likes to exaggerate bad situations. Add in the panic that comes from expecting things to go “according to plan,” and it becomes a recipe for self-destruction.

This all kinda ties back to some of the old Stoic stuff. Marcus Aurelius talked about how we don’t control what happens to us, we only control how we react to it. That’s where our real power lies.

Let Go, Move On

So yeah, control is nice in theory. It makes us feel safe, gives us the illusion that we’ve got our hands on the wheel. But the truth is, the wheel’s not even connected half the time. Life’s gonna life, whether we’re ready or not.

The only thing I’ve found that actually helps is letting go of that need to control everything and just focusing on what I can do. Stay calm, stay aware, and handle each curveball as it comes. It doesn’t make the problems disappear, but it does keep me from spiraling when the plan goes off the rails (which it will).

Control isn’t power. Clarity is. Awareness is. Being able to shift and adapt that’s where the real strength is.

There’s a line from the song Holocene that always sticks with me:
“And at once, I knew I was not magnificent.”
It’s not self-deprecating, it’s freeing. It’s a moment of recognizing your place in the chaos of the world and being okay with it. You don’t have to be magnificent. You just have to be aware. Awake. Present. That’s enough.

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