AS a kid, one of the most painful memories I had was having to transfer school in the fourth grade. I didn’t cry a lot as a teen (and still don’t as an adult), but I distinctly remember ugly crying when my parents sat me down and told me I wasn’t going back to School A—where I had the same set of classmates from Nursery all the way to Grade 4—because of “reasons.” It felt like I was leaving for a foreign land I hadn’t the faintest idea about.
I managed to adjust to School B’s pace, but something had changed in me. I had been a goofy guy who would make any excuse to go out with friends or camp at their house to PlayStation my eyesight away. Now, I was pulling back, even going so far as to choose to stay home instead of spending time with classmates. Looking back it was me needing double, triple, and quadruple checks before I would offer anyone a semblance of trust. I had cultivated an obsessive need for control—to mitigate being hurt—that would ferment and go unchecked for years.
There was some good in this—my thoroughness and hands-on nature are skills I take pride in. I got pretty good at formulating Plan Bs because I didn’t charge into the “fog of war” blindly. The downside is I could be difficult. I’d be livid when people I worked with showed nonchalance for the work. If the devil was in the details, these people were most certainly demonized in my eyes with their half-baked solutions. And I’d let them know in not so many words—I was not about to let something blow up in my face because they messed up.
But that’s the trouble with control: there will always be something new to learn and improve on. I frequently blew my top over things that flew out of my control (unsurprisingly, the majority of life). Admittedly, I’ve alienated a lot because of this and knew I had to make a choice: was it really worth it to be right instead of kind? Even now I’m still working on reining it in and assuring myself that the most important thing is not perfection, but agility to realign quickly.
What was the whole point of my story? I guess it’s that control during these trying times seems to slip from our grasp. That no matter how much we know or do, we could still have the rug pulled out from underneath us—a scary thought. Fear is not a bad thing as it warns us of potential danger (no one wants to be foolhardy). But to give in to fear is to become a snarling, angry School B Jedd that becomes a difficult person in a difficult time.
Will we make an obsessive need for control top priority? Or will we be brave enough to embrace uncertainty and step up for humanity? The choice is ours.