I’m in the throes of raising a tiny human, sustaining a meaningful marriage, growing new friendships, maintaining old relationships, chasing dreams, and managing all that daily life throws at me.  It’s often amazing and occasionally exhausting. To complicate things, I have a hateful little monster that follows me around. For a long time I defended her, making excuses about how she means well, but I’m beginning to suspect that she takes pleasure in tipping my scale toward chaos.

This monster looks like me, but she’s rigid and proper and wears too much lipstick. It’s all a facade to make others think she’s got her life together. She waltzes in under the guise of coping skills, efficiency, and a git-r-done attitude, but she’s a phony. She only wants to be in control. She needs to know ALL THE THINGS. She gets a naughty kick out of micro-managing. She wants to dip her toe in everybody’s business. She pushes perfectionism and glorifies busyness. Sometimes she gets stuff done, but most of the time she is just a big ol’ bully that points out my mistakes and shames me for needing a nap.

Don’t let the red lipstick and French tip manicure fool you; my control monster does not have it all together. She is bossy and domineering. She is pushy and judgy. She is never fully satisfied. No doubt, the most terrifying thing about her is—she is familiar. I know her well. She’s been around my entire life and sometimes the line between the real me and the monster gets blurry. But make no mistake– she’s a mean girl and she is not me. I am not her. I am kind, trusting, loving, fun, and flawed. The real me needs some grace and the monster needs a firm reminder that she’s not welcome around here.

When my monster gets riled up and rowdy, I have three tricks to put her in her place.

1. Give Thanks. When the monster starts catastrophizing and I get caught up in the frenzy, I slow the roll by giving thanks. On my desk sits a large mason jar with a hole punched in the lid. Every day I take a moment to jot down one thing I am thankful for and I drop it in the jar. Some days it’s EASY (hello, sunshine and toddler giggles) and somedays it is HARD (I’m looking at you, temper tantrums and vet bills). Some days I don’t feel thankful, but nearly every day I find at least one thing to give thanks for. This practice has created an attitude of gratefulness in my daily life and reminds the monster that my life is actually pretty great.
2. Be Still. I call it prayer. You may call it quiet time or meditation. Whatever you want to call it, I take a moment to be still. I breathe in and out. Again. One more time. For just a few minutes, I let the world keep turning and I take a break. Listen. Center. Breathe. Never once has the world stopped turning because I paused to take a breath and recalibrate. Bonus: the go-go-go monster loses momentum when I refuse to chase her.
3. Ask for help. I can let the monster spin me around until I’m dizzy and then get cranky at the world for letting it happen, or I can place my foot on firm ground and ask my people for help. Spouse, parents, siblings, friends, neighbors. Sometimes I must humble myself, ask my people for help, and then let—here’s the kicker— let them help me. The monster tries to tell me that everyone else is doing it wrong or that they are annoyed with me for asking or that I should have figured out how to do it by myself. The monster is lying. My people want to love me and sometimes the only thing stopping them is my over controlling monster. When my space is filled with my people, there is less room for the monster.

I still fall into step behind the monster more often than I’d care to, but I’m learning where my power lies and—spoiler alert—it is not with the over-achieving, highly-critical, uber-bossy monster in the globby lipstick. I cope with the monster of control and perfectionism by acknowledging where my power lies. My power lies in my willingness to see the good. My power lies in my ability to step out of the chaos and refocus. My power lies in the village of people I call my own. I am me. I am not my monster.