How To Heal Your Inner Control Freak

Last week it rained.

It doesn’t rain that often here in Spain, so for the kids it’s always some kind of long-awaited treat - a reminder of their past lives in often-grey Blighty: mud, puddles, donning their wet-weather uniform of wellies and waterproofs.

I’ve come to appreciate the rain much more now that I don’t have to cycle the kids to and from school in it most days. But I’m not such a fan of getting drenched.

Not because I don’t like feeling wet.

But because I hate the aftermath it entails: mountains of sopping laundry, not enough available radiators to dry it on, those that are available transforming the house into a messy laundrette, treacherously slippy trails of water snaking through all the rooms, damp boots that take days to return to their protective purpose, smears of caked mud on surfaces and walls.

In other words, their idea of fun - the making a mess - is my idea of hell.

Which is why I have found myself twice this month having a little tantrum about the state in which the kids have returned from their excursion into the nearby (pig poo-fertilised) field.

I knew that I was justified in feeling annoyed - I shouldn’t be treated like the servant, and the kids need to learn that their actions have consequences (they did).

But I also knew that my reaction was disproportionate to the amount of work they had created for me.

And it bothered me how diametrically opposed my panic was to their unbridled joy. Why couldn’t I share in it, at least a little?

So it got me thinking about what this event in my present was pointing to in my past: about which difficult experience (that I hadn’t yet integrated), their mud wrestling had triggered for my inner child.

And it turns out it’s about lack of control. About unpredictability and being suddenly put in charge of something big without warning; a fear of chaos taking over order and my overwhelm at feeling solely responsible.

Whilst this isn’t something that I directly remember experiencing whilst growing up, I know it’s there: the unpredictable outbursts, the adrenalin and judgement-fuelled environment, the fear of getting it wrong, the feeling responsible for the emotional chaos.

And so I’ve been ‘re-parenting’ this parentified little girl that felt horribly out of her depth. Validating her feelings and soothing her angst. Letting her know that she is no longer alone and that adult me is now in charge. Reassuring her that she is safe now; that she can relax.

Acknowledging why your inner child is triggered by an event in your everyday reality and sending love and compassion to this part of you that experienced the original ‘trauma’, is the key to healing that wound and removing this trigger in future.

It’s how we become whole. Integrate our inherited fears. And make room in our hearts for authenticity and joy.

Now adult me is almost ready for when it next rains. Almost.