The Illusion of Control: Learning to Surrender

Part 2 of The Woman I Left Behind series

For the first time in decades, I didn't have a plan.

No agenda. No to-do list. No next three months mapped out.

Just curiosity.

After that fateful day when I closed my laptop and walked away from my desk (you can read about that in  Part 1), I began wondering where this new exploration would take me.

And one question kept coming up.

What does it really mean to be feminine?

I grew up during a time when women were being encouraged to become independent, ambitious, and capable of achieving anything they wanted.

And I embraced that.

I believed I could do anything I set my mind to. And for most of my adult life, that's exactly how I lived.

But somewhere along the way, I began to wonder whether I had confused being capable with having to be in control.

I'm not saying women have to give up their careers or their big dreams. Quite the opposite.

I believe we can have the drive for achievement, a career, a deep relationship with our Creator, creativity, fun, joy, open-heartedness, and an amazing R-rated marriage.

We don't have to choose between being powerful and being feminine.

But perhaps we have to change how we relate to achievement, responsibility, and control.

I was beginning to wonder whether the independence and self-reliance I had always been so proud of had also made it difficult for me to relax, receive, and trust.

And that brings me to one of the biggest realizations of this journey.

Control.

Yes, I said it.

I was beginning to realize just how much of my life I had spent trying to control the outcome of just about everything.

And the realization didn't come from a book, a podcast, or even the retreat.

It came from something that was happening in my marriage.

For about six months, I had been asking my husband to take me out. Dinner, coffee, a fun activity—anything. I wanted him to take the initiative and plan something for us to do together.

And for six months, nothing.

Not one date night.

I asked. I pleaded. We argued about it.

But somewhere in all of that frustration, I began to realize that I wasn't really looking for a date night.

I was looking for connection.

I wanted to feel wanted, cherished, and chosen. I wanted to know that he wanted to spend time with me.

And no amount of asking, pleading, or arguing was creating that feeling.

I'll share more about this part of my marriage in another post because there is so much more to that story.

But it made me begin looking at other areas of my life.

My business. My relationships. My plans.

I was constantly trying to do the right things to get the outcomes I wanted.

Send the right email. Find the right clients. Be in the right places. Attend the right networking events.

Plan. Strategize. Execute.

And when things weren't happening the way I wanted, I would just try harder.

After all, that's what the "get-it-done-girl" does.

But it was exhausting.

And here's the thing. Being in control wasn't even working.

I may have been striving, hustling, and thinking I was in control, but I was only fooling myself.

I could make plans. I could take action. I could communicate what I wanted.

But I couldn't control how another person responded, who would become a client, or how everything would turn out.

And the harder I tried to control those outcomes, the more exhausted and frustrated I became.

Something had to change.

Learning to Surrender

In my prayers and meditations, one word kept coming up.

Surrender.

Not the kind of surrender that looks like giving up, but one that looks like trust.

True emuna.

Emunah is a Hebrew word often translated as faith, but its meaning goes deeper than simply believing in G-d. It's about trusting Him, trusting His wisdom, His timing, and His guidance, even when we don't understand what He's doing.

And that was the part I was beginning to understand.

Trusting G-d didn't mean trusting Him only when life was unfolding the way I wanted.

It meant trusting that everything was ultimately for my good.

Even the things I considered bad.

The mistakes.

The failures.

The struggles.

I took out a sheet of paper and began writing down all the times I thought something had gone wrong, only to discover later that things had worked out better than I could have imagined.

I wrote about the disappointments that had led to unexpected opportunities, the difficult seasons that had brought personal growth, and the things I had once considered bad that turned out to be blessings.

Like the time we were just two weeks away from closing on our home in Oklahoma.

We had found our dream home in Texas, and everything was lined up perfectly. We would close on our house in Oklahoma and then, a few days later, close on our new home in Texas.

And then the deal fell through.

We were devastated.

We had spent weeks bending over backward to accommodate the buyers, agreeing to things we weren't happy about just to keep the sale moving forward. And after all of that, they walked away.

I remember feeling like everything was falling apart. We were about to lose the house we wanted in Texas, and there was nothing we could do about it.

That afternoon, we put our Oklahoma house back on the market, knowing we would probably have to withdraw our offer on the Texas house the next day.

But the next morning, our real estate agent called.

We had another offer.

Not only was it above the asking price, but the buyers wanted a quick closing. And unlike the previous buyers, they weren't trying to negotiate every last dollar out of us.

We ended up making significantly more money on the sale, closed on our dream home in Texas, and everything came together beautifully.

What had felt like a disaster turned out to be a blessing.

Of course, not every disappointment in my life has come with such an obvious blessing. There are still things I don't understand. But looking back at the times that I could see G-d's hand helped me begin to trust Him in the times I couldn't.

And as I sat there looking at the pages I had written, I began to see a pattern.

G-d's goodness and protection had been woven throughout my life, even in the moments when I couldn't see it.

Things I had worried about endlessly had worked out in ways I never could have planned.

And I wondered how different those seasons might have felt if I had trusted more and worried less.

How much unnecessary stress had I created by believing I needed to figure everything out?

How much energy had I spent trying to control things that were never mine to control?

I began to understand something.

Surrender didn't mean I had to stop wanting things. It meant I had to stop believing I could control how they happened.

I could still want a beautiful, connected marriage.

I could still have big dreams for my business.

I could still make plans, take action, and pursue the things that mattered to me.

But I didn't have to carry the responsibility for making every outcome happen.

I could do my part and trust G-d with the rest.

For someone who had spent most of her adult life believing she could only count on herself, that was a pretty big shift.

A New Way of Living

My new practice is to trust.

To loosen my grip and allow things to unfold.

Not to stop living or taking action, but to wait and see where a situation takes me without immediately trying to manage the outcome.

Not to judge, but to be curious.

I also began adding something else to my daily practice.

Thanking G-d for everything.

There is so much to be thankful for, from the glass of water I'm drinking to the bed I'll be sleeping in later tonight, and everything in between.

It's how I start my day.

But I don't just say thank you.

I deeply feel the gratitude.

There is a difference.

I linger there in the feeling of gratitude, opening my heart to love and noticing more and more things to be grateful for.

And every time a negative or worrisome thought enters my mind, I acknowledge it.

Instead of immediately trying to figure out how to fix the situation, I remind myself that I don't know whether what is happening is ultimately good or bad.

I don't know how the story ends.

So I choose to trust that G-d is guiding me, even when I can't see where things are going.

Some days, that comes easily.

Other days, I find myself slipping back into old habits, wanting to figure everything out and make things happen.

But I'm learning that I don't have to have all the answers.

Because surrender isn't about becoming passive or giving up responsibility.

It's about recognizing the difference between what is mine to do and what was never mine to control.

Making Room for Something Different

Surrender.

Peace.

Gratitude.

Three simple words that are beginning to change the way I live.

I'm still the woman who has big dreams, makes plans, takes action, and wants a beautiful, connected marriage.

Those desires haven't disappeared.

But I'm beginning to understand that I can do my part without trying to control everyone else's part or the outcome.

I can ask for what I need without believing I can make someone give it to me.

I can build my business without believing that every email, conversation, or opportunity has to turn into something.

And I can trust G-d even when life isn't unfolding the way I imagined.

But surrender isn't something I've mastered.

It's a daily choice. And some days, it's a daily struggle.

The "get it done girl" hasn't gone anywhere. She still wants to jump in, take charge, figure things out, and make things happen.

The difference is that now I recognize her.

I recognize when I'm trying to control an outcome instead of trusting. When I'm striving instead of allowing. When I'm carrying the weight of things that were never mine to control.

And in those moments, I have a choice.

I can tighten my grip, or I can loosen it.

Sometimes I catch myself right away. Other times, it takes a little longer.

But I'm learning.

For a woman who spent most of her life believing she could only count on herself, this is a whole new way of living.

I'm not giving up my strength.

I'm learning that I don't have to use it to carry everything.

And perhaps that's how I begin making room for the softer, more open-hearted woman I've been missing all these years.

I wonder how many of us are exhausted not just from everything we do, but from everything we believe we have to control.

What might become possible if we loosened our grip a little and allowed ourselves to trust?

I'm still finding out.