Thoughts on Change From a Semi-Reformed Control Freak

Change is hard. Period. I also don’t do well with chaos; as a matter of fact it makes me slightly nauseous. I thrive with a predictable routine and I absolutely hate being blindsided with spontaneity unless you give me a head start on preparing to be spontaneous. Don’t mistake that for a hatred of risk-taking. I love a good risk, as long as I can research it for a (preferably significant) period of time, analyze the pros and cons, project how it may or may not affect my budget, run a few (dozen) impact scenarios, and then sit with my spreadsheets reviewing the data over and over. Case in point: I bought myself a tattoo for my 40th birthday, and it only took me 5 years to pull the trigger on it.

So, knowing this, the Universe created the OHT and flung him gently into my arms and heart in 1997. “Don’t like change? Meet your son.” And then It sat back and laughed, and laughed, and laughed at my futile attempts to control the outcome of the millions of change moments that were launched from the minute he drew his first breath. No worries, It also gave my boy the fighting spirit of a fierce warrior, the sense of humor of the best comedians, and the gentlest soul filled with joy and laughter, love and light that I have ever encountered. My boy used all of that to teach me about change, and chaos, and going with the damn flow.

Man, I tried so hard to control everything. I would put us into a routine, things would cruise along for a bit of time, just enough time for me to think “OK. I have a handle on this parenting thing. Making progress, all good, Others are quiet, Heidi is in control!” And then wha-bam. A fever, high enough for a trip to the ER and time off work. Or an email/call from an Other, reminding me that they really weren’t quiet, they were just lying in wait to blindside me. Something would drive a stick into my carefully spinning internal orbit, shattering it and hurling the debris of my perceived control all over the chaos that ensued. And I would go off the rails, sliding down into a shame spiral from the inability to keep control of the uncontrollable situation.

I spent a lot of time trying to control the uncontrollable. Change is inevitable, I know that, but I hated change and the chaos that came with it. In my mind, they went hand in hand. Internally I was a mess, trying to anticipate change and mitigate the chaos that ensued. However, along the way, I discovered gratitude for my boy and what I thought were his coping skills. Nothing, absolutely nothing, shook this kid from his center of joy and laughter, love and light. Fever? No problem. Off to the hospital to charm the nurses and doctors. Others being Others? Meh. Smile gently, dismiss them thoroughly and move on. Sure, he got angry, and sad, and frustrated. But he expressed it in his way, and then he moved on, letting none of it sit too long within himself. Self-regulation, thy name was Noah. He never once allowed change or chaos to move him from his center. Which, in turn, allowed me to return to center and continue the fight. Turns out, it wasn’t his coping skills. It was his spirit and soul.

I think, now that I can look back from a distance, that he didn’t equate change with chaos. Change was one thing, and chaos was another. He didn’t fight with them the way I did, and still do sometimes. He didn’t waste his energy on trying to force calm into a situation. He stayed calm during the situation. And because he did that, he could absorb and accept change and he could absorb and accept chaos. Which left more time for joy and laughter, love and light.

It’s a lesson I still struggle with, a lot. When I find myself swirling in change, I can usually remember to absorb and accept and even embrace it. When I find myself heading toward chaos, I can sometimes remember to absorb and accept that is only temporary. It’s when the two come at me together that I struggle and forget that one doesn’t cause the other and that I cannot control the uncontrollable. However, when that happens, the Universe never hesitates to Throat Punch me with a Dragonfly Moment. Or two. Or three (I said semi-reformed, remember?) Then I can stop, breathe, remember his oh-so-soft and gentle hand hold, his laughing blue eyes, and his sweet, sarcastic voice asking, “Mom. You having a little freak out there?”, allowing me to separate the two, relax, absorb and accept, and to go with the damn flow.

Race For the Cure, Grand Rapids, MI 2012. Right around the time he discovered his mother was, in fact, a giant weirdo.

One thought on “Thoughts on Change From a Semi-Reformed Control Freak”

  1. I think of you and Noah often. Reflecting on my interactions with him still warm my heart. I have encouraged and cheer for parents to advocate for their child like you did. My yard is full of dragonflies and my heart soars with them just imagining how two lives can have such a positive impact on not just mine, but many lives. Thank you for touching mine.

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