Learning to Let Go of What You Can't Control
How loss, uncertainty, and starting over taught me to build security within myself
For much of my life, security meant knowing what was going to happen.
I wanted financial security. I wanted to know what my future would look like. I wanted to understand where my life was headed and, whenever possible, have some control over what happened around me. There was comfort in having a plan because if I knew what came next, I could prepare for it. If I could anticipate a problem, perhaps I could prevent it. If I could work hard enough and make the right decisions, maybe I could keep everything from falling apart.
What I didn't understand for a long time was how much anxiety could live underneath that desire for security. When something changed that I hadn't chosen, my body could respond with a mixture of anxiety and a kind of freeze. Sometimes I would become overwhelmed and not know what to do first. Other times, I would swing in the opposite direction and try to control everything I possibly could. I would cling, plan, and try to fix, all while carrying the underlying fear that if I couldn't get everything under control, something would go terribly wrong.
When the Future You Planned Disappears
I think we often underestimate how much of our sense of security comes from the future we imagine for ourselves. We don't just become attached to the people and circumstances we have today. We become attached to the story we've created about where those things are supposed to lead.
I experienced that very deeply when my marriage ended. I knew that leaving was the right decision for me. I had spent years recognizing that the relationship wasn't healthy, and I wasn't trying to preserve a future with my ex-husband by the time I finally left - I knew staying would mean many more years of even worse health issues, too.
But knowing something is right doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.
I didn't just lose a marriage. I lost relationships with family and friends. I experienced the silence of people who had once been part of my life. I lost financial security and had to begin rebuilding on my own. I lost the future I had once assumed would happen simply because I had spent so many years moving toward it.
Perhaps one of the hardest parts was how alone I felt. There were so many layers of grief happening at once, and there wasn't necessarily a large group of people standing beside me through it. That loneliness was painful, but something else was happening at the same time.
For the first time in a long time, I had a blank slate.
The Freedom Inside a Blank Slate
There is a strange contradiction in losing the life you thought you were going to have. It can feel terrifying because you no longer know what comes next, but it can also be incredibly freeing because you no longer have to keep building the life you were living.
I no longer had to walk on eggshells or structure my decisions around how someone else might react. I no longer had to negotiate my choices with people who challenged me for wanting something different. I no longer had to spend time with people that completely drained my energy. I was suddenly responsible for creating my own life, and that was frightening.
It was also empowering.
For years, I had thought security came from keeping circumstances stable. I was beginning to learn that there is another kind of security: knowing that even if circumstances change, I can find a way forward.
That is a very different kind of confidence. It doesn't say, "Nothing bad will happen to me." It says, "If something does happen, I will figure out what to do next."
When Fear Makes You Try to Control Everything
I've learned that my desire for control often becomes strongest when I feel the least secure. If I don't know what is going to happen, I can feel an almost desperate need to create a plan. I want to know the outcome, understand how everything is going to work, and believe that the decisions I'm making today will lead to the future I'm imagining.
When I couldn't do that, I sometimes interpreted it as failure. If I didn't have everything planned out, I worried that too many things would go wrong. I worried that I wouldn't be able to recover or that things would fall apart so much that I wouldn't be able to put them back together.
But life has taught me something I couldn't have learned simply by making a better plan:
You cannot plan your way out of uncertainty.
There will always be things you don't know. There will always be people whose choices you cannot control and circumstances that change without asking your permission. Sometimes the path that unfolds is completely different from the one you would have planned for yourself - and we need to be open enough to that so that we can let God in to lead the way, too.
That doesn't mean planning is wrong. It means a plan cannot become the thing you depend on for your sense of safety.
Learning to Take One Step
I've had to learn this particularly through moving. With my last two moves, there were moments when the sheer number of things that needed to happen felt overwhelming. I would wake up in the morning paralyzed with anxiety and fear. If I looked at the entire process at once, it was easy to freeze, so I began asking myself a much smaller question:
What is the next thing I can do today?
Maybe it was packing a few things, looking online at rental options, making one phone call, or researching one piece of the move. None of those things solved everything, but they gave me somewhere to put my energy.
Something interesting happened as I practiced doing this. I became better at calming myself because instead of looking at an enormous list of everything that could possibly go wrong, I could focus on the one thing directly in front of me.
The next step didn't have to solve my entire future.
It just had to move me forward.
The Next Step Might Not Be the One You Expected
There was another lesson hidden inside this process. When I tried to plan everything in advance, I was also assuming that I already knew what the right path was. But sometimes I didn't.
Sometimes the next opportunity, conversation, realization, or change opened a door I couldn't have anticipated when I first began. What looked like an interruption to my plans could become part of a path I hadn't known to look for.
That has become an important part of my spiritual life, too. I don't believe I need to know the entire path in order to trust God. I can pray, pay attention, take the next step that seems right, and then see what is placed in front of me.
That doesn't mean I never make plans. Planning can be practical and wise. But there is a difference between planning responsibly and believing that I have to control the entire outcome.
One leaves room for life to unfold. The other leaves me exhausted from trying to predict it.
Security Is Something I'm Learning to Create Within Myself
My understanding of security has changed significantly. I still value financial stability. I still want a peaceful home and a stable life, and I still want to make thoughtful decisions about my future. But I no longer want my entire sense of safety to depend on circumstances remaining exactly as I planned them.
Instead, I'm trying to build security through my own resilience. I'm learning to trust my abilities, support myself financially, and make decisions without needing everyone else to approve of them. I'm learning that I can leave situations that aren't healthy for me, that I can start over, and that I can survive disappointment.
I'm also learning that I can grieve something deeply and still move forward.
Perhaps most importantly, I'm learning that I don't have to control other people in order to create a good life for myself. I can focus on what is actually mine to manage: my choices, my boundaries, my effort, my responses, and my next step.
That is where my power lives.
Sometimes Falling Apart Is a Redirection
I don't want to romanticize loss. There are things I've lost that I would never wish to experience again. There were periods when I was deeply lonely, times when I was frightened about my future, financial consequences I've spent years rebuilding from, and relationships I genuinely loved that I had to grieve.
It would be dishonest to say that everything falling apart immediately felt like a blessing.
It didn't.
But I can look back now and see that some of the things I desperately wanted to preserve were not actually leading me toward the life I needed. Sometimes what feels like the destruction of your future is actually the destruction of a future that was never going to fit you.
Sometimes the relationship ending is what allows you to discover who you are without it. Sometimes losing your plans gives you the freedom to create better ones. Sometimes being forced to slow down gives you the opportunity to ask whether you even want to keep running in the direction you were going.
And sometimes a blank slate is not a punishment.
Sometimes it's an invitation.
You Don't Have to Know How Everything Will Work Out
I think one of the hardest things about major change is the pressure we put on ourselves to immediately figure out what comes next. We want the new job, the new home, the new relationship, the new financial plan, and the new identity. We want reassurance that everything will be okay before we're willing to take the first step.
But sometimes reassurance comes after the step.
Sometimes you have to move before you feel completely ready. Sometimes you have to trust yourself before you have evidence that everything will work out. And sometimes you have to surrender the need to know exactly where the road ends.
If you are in a season where something is changing or falling apart, you don't have to pretend that you're not scared. Feel the grief, the anger, and the uncertainty. Find people who can support you. Pray. Ask for help when you need it.
And then ask yourself:
What is the next thing I can do today?
Not the next twenty things. Not the entire five-year plan. Just the next step.
Pack a box. Make the phone call. Look at the apartment. Update the résumé. Open the bank account. Have the conversation. Take the walk. Rest.
Whatever that next step is, let it be enough for today.
You Are More Resilient Than You Think
I used to believe security meant preventing things from going wrong. Now I'm beginning to understand that real security can also come from knowing that I can meet life when things don't go according to plan.
I don't have to control every outcome, and I don't have to know exactly what my future will look like. I don't have to prevent every loss. I can build a life that supports me while remaining open to the possibility that the path will change.
And I can trust that change doesn't automatically mean something has gone wrong.
Sometimes it means something is being redirected. Sometimes it means something is being released. Sometimes it means you are being asked to build something new. And sometimes, you simply don't know yet.
That's okay, too.
I've learned that I can walk forward without having the entire road mapped out. I can take one step, then another. I can allow myself to grieve what I'm leaving behind while remaining curious about what might be waiting ahead.
And I can trust that even when I don't know exactly where I'm going, I am capable of finding my way.
You don't have to know how you're going to rebuild your entire life before you take the first step.
You only have to be willing to take the next one.
A few questions to sit with
If you're navigating a season of uncertainty, consider asking yourself:
What have I been using to create a sense of security in my life?
How do I respond when something changes that I cannot control?
When I'm afraid, do I freeze, cling, over-plan, or try to fix everything?
What am I afraid will happen if I stop trying to control the outcome?
What parts of my current situation are actually within my control?
What would it look like to create more security within myself rather than depending entirely on circumstances?
What is one small step I can take today?
Can I allow myself to grieve what I'm losing without assuming that my future is ruined?
Where might life be redirecting me rather than simply taking something away?
What would it look like to trust God with the parts of my future I cannot yet see?
Because sometimes the greatest peace doesn't come from finally knowing what happens next.
Sometimes it comes from knowing that whatever happens next, you will meet it one step at a time.