Control is NOT leadership
I grew up in a family of alcoholics and addicts. I thought I needed control to live life well. But this post is about how letting go is what makes you a better leader, parent, and human.
A while back I shared something in a 12-step recovery group. A LOT of people messaged me to say that it helped them. Even though it is highly personal, I decided to share the same thing with you.
It has to do with
The difference between leading our teams and families and trying to control them;
How many of us become high-achievers and leaders out of a need for control;
That the need for control can sometimes make us vastly less effective.
So...
Before we get too far into this, just a quick reminder that this is why I share stories here—because they’re not just mine. A lot of us have our own “control origin stories,” whether it’s in family, work, or somewhere else. When you finish reading this post, I’d love to hear how any of what I share lands for you. Let’s talk in the comments.
Control: My First Survival Tool
I grew up in a family of alcoholics and addicts. That isn't all bad. It set me up to rely on my capabilities in certain ways. It taught me survival skills. In a lot of respects, it launched me as a high-achiever and leader.
As I alluded to above, talented people from highly dysfunctional families sometimes thirst to become high-achievers and leaders in order to feel more in control. That illusion of control can make us feel safer from the chaos we grew up in. At least that was true for me.
Are you nodding your head in agreement about yourself yet?
So here is the story I shared at the meeting the other day (I apologize in advance for the deliberate vagueness in places)...
When I was eight or nine, the phone would ring, I would answer it, and a member of my family who did not live with me would be on the other end, drunk and maudlin.
The person demanded to speak with one of the adults I did live with but the adult I lived with would say, "Are they drunk? I am not talking to them if they are drunk."
I would relay the message back over the phone. Then, the drunk family member would say, "Tell them to come to the phone or I will kill myself." Suddenly, I was, at age 9, in charge of a high stakes negotiation between two adults.
I thought my ability to negotiate well was a life and death matter. Often, I actually managed to get the non-drunk adult to finally come to the phone to talk to the drunk adult.
In other words, at an early age, I learned that my ability to control was often mortally important and also that I was actually pretty good at controlling.
From Chaos to Career Success
Skip years forward and control was a major tool in my belt when it came to graduating third in my college class, getting a PhD, getting mentored by a 700-store retail chain CEO, running a PR firm, founding a another PR firm, writing four books, founding a non-profit, and becoming—at least for a time—an international thought leader.
For so many years after trying to control those terrible childhood phone calls, in business negotiations, dealing with recalcitrant team members, trying to manage work crises, I got through by using the talent and ability and control that I developed in my family of origin.
When My Control Strategy Failed Me
A lot of the time it worked—or at least I thought it did. Until my own child had a crisis of her own. The stored trauma in my body made me want to control more than ever, as I had done so well as a child and a leader. The danger again felt mortal.
The thing is:
1. I could not actually control this situation (you feel me, parents?);
2. My desire to control threatened to badly harm my relationship with my child;
3. I realized that trying to control the situation was not only ineffective but was actually making me deeply unhappy.
But I felt in a terrible dilemma. If I did not control the situation, how would I stop myself from losing my child (read: be abandoned by them, as I was by adults as a child)? Secondly, if I did not control the situation, wasn't I abandoning my child?
In other words, I had this tool called "control" and it didn't work but I had no other tools. Also, potentially not using my control tool triggered a deep childhood fear of both being abandoned and abandoning.
⏸️ Take a Moment To Reflect Here:
Can you find moments in your life where you wished you have swapped control for presence? Tell me in comments.
The Problem with the Control Drug
This is the point of the story—both for parents and for leaders of teams and companies. In the end, we find that control doesn't actually work. Command and control is only effective—if it is effective at all—until we leave the land of the known.
Once we leave known territory, how can control help us, since we don't know what to do? If a child presents a new situation? If our business presents a new situation? If our team finds itself in a situation that is unfamiliar? How can we control when we are confounded?
Here is the thing: When we are in new situations, what we need is to be deeply open and curious so new information and new ways of responding can reach our consciousness. We need to be deeply in contact with the situation as it is, not as we want to control it into being. We actually have to embrace NOT being in control in order to be effective.
In fact, the illusion of control, for me, is a kind of drug that takes me out of contact with situations that need my presence. The job of the drug of control is to numb me to the discomfort of not knowing. To numb me from actual emotional contact with the situation I find myself in.
Paradoxically, the illusion of control itself is how I could have abandoned my child in their crisis and other confounding situations because it numbs me to actual emotional presence. Control makes my body an empty avatar of a person who is actually disconnected and far away. Control makes me an emotional abandoner.
What People Really Want From Us
My child, during their crisis, did not want me to control them. They wanted me to be with them.
My teams and family members and friends don't want me to control everything; they want me to be present so we can collaborate on actual—as opposed to preconceived—solutions.
Control is not leadership. Control is just distance. Being present to the unknown in collaboration is leadership. Even if it is uncomfortable and vulnerable.
If you want to lead (or parent or relate or be a family or community member), know when you don't actually have control and be with it. Let go of the drug of control and be present. It is through your presence that you will find a path to responding well. That is how you lead.
Let’s Talk
I’d love to hear what this stirred up in you. Did it bring up any of your own “control origin stories”? Leave a comment below or just tap “like” to let me know you’re out there.
Love,
Colin
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That’s one of the biggest lessons from my 12 years in a relationship.
When I tried to control too much or do too much, the distance only grew.
It might sound small, but having two separate laundry baskets has been a total game changer.
We’re together, but we’re also our own people.
It’s a balance I hope to model for my daughter when she’s here.
This speaks to me: "Being present to the unknown in collaboration is leadership. Even if it is uncomfortable and vulnerable." Both as a leader and one who wants this from those who "lead" me.