Control Is Not Power, but a Matter of Boundaries
The word “control” has its roots in French, and its meaning has evolved considerably over time.
In medieval France, a double-record system was used. The account books kept by the person responsible for receiving and spending money were compared against one another, and the two records were placed side by side to verify their consistency.
The Latin expression contra-rotulus referred to this very act of comparison and verification.
Put simply, control originally meant checking whether two records matched.
Today, however, what we call control has become far broader, far more complicated, and, in many cases, impossible to fully control at all.
Modern people tend to believe that having control makes us stronger.
And we are not entirely wrong.
But there is a critical point we often miss: when we speak of control, what we usually mean is that everything must pass through our personal filter. We want to see everything, approve or reject everything, love or hate everything.
In other words, we try to establish control by existing only at the extremes.
That sentence alone is enough to reveal how problematic the situation is.
When our minds cannot reach certainty about something, they tend to place it in an internal room of unresolved matters. Everything uncertain stays there. It occupies us, follows us around, and gradually exhausts both our thoughts and our emotions.
So how do we move beyond this?
More importantly, do we genuinely believe the things we tell ourselves?
The first thing we need to question is our own belief system.
Knowing what is right does not always mean that we will choose to do it. This is a very ordinary human tendency. A virtue that does not align with the outcome we desire can quickly become a rule we conveniently ignore.
What matters here is understanding one’s own internal system of belief.
A person needs to know how much they trust their own word and what their convictions are actually capable of producing.
Unfortunately, no book can provide this balance in a ready-made form.
The individual has to build that balance—and that sense of control—within themselves.
If we can bring our belief system into some kind of balance, then we can begin to look differently at the events that constantly bombard us.
Many of the things that paralyze our minds and feed our anxiety today may not actually be as enormous as they appear.
The issue is often less about the event itself and more about the way we perceive it.
First, we need to understand what we can actually control.
Stoicism often carries the idea that we should not struggle endlessly with things beyond our control.
That idea is valuable, but when misunderstood, it can easily turn into passivity.
For me, the point is not to become entirely accepting, detached, or inactive in the face of life.
A person should absolutely struggle.
They should push, resist, fail repeatedly if necessary, and still find a way to move even one centimeter forward.
So let us return to the question of control.
What truly matters is knowing where the boundary lies between what we can control and what we cannot.
Trying to eliminate emotional reactions entirely is not a healthy ideal.
Our emotions are among the most fundamental things that distinguish us as individuals. A breakdown, a laugh, heartbreak, excitement—these are natural forms of emotional expression.
Of course, not every emotion can be expressed in the same way in every environment.
Formal settings, emotionally distant spaces, or situations shaped by certain social obligations may require emotional restraint.
But a person should not become someone who constantly monitors themselves even around the people they value—calculating every reaction and suppressing every emotion.
Because once that happens, all they are doing is continually mixing the clean water inside them with the dirty water.
If we understand the weight and responsibility of our emotions, then we also need to talk about certain areas of life that cannot be governed through rigid control.
Love and affection belong to that category.
These are not things that can be managed according to strict rules.
Building your entire approach around a single fixed belief does not necessarily make you more consistent. More often, it makes you more obsessive.
Love is not a mathematical problem with a definite answer.
Pretending that it has one and trying to calculate the result will only exhaust you further.
In these areas, handing complete control over to reason, planning, and tactics is often an exercise in futility.
Football tactics belong on a football pitch.
They do not belong in human relationships.
If we have managed to understand our relationship with emotions even slightly, we can now move on to another area where excuses never seem to end.
You have probably heard sentences like these:
- There is a right time for that.
- Let me just get through this first.
- I will do it, but I need to relax a little before I start.
- Once I clear my head, I will finally get everything back on track.
You have probably said some of them yourself.
Most of the time, these sentences are the result of using a period in which we feel out of control as an excuse to postpone taking action.
Instead of confronting the situation, pushing through it, or making an effort, we try to sweep that period of our lives under the carpet.
But time, contrary to what we often believe, is not something we control.
Time is complicated.
The task you postponed eight times will not magically offer you a way out six months later when you are depressed and exhausted.
And yet, part of the rope is still in our hands.
What we need to do is get rid of our excuses and begin, even when beginning is difficult.
We need to plan, remain consistent, act with discipline, and stop endlessly postponing the things required to reach our own potential.
But what does any of this have to do with control?
When people fail to manage the parts of their lives that feel uncontrollable, they often begin controlling the wrong things.
They interfere with areas they were never supposed to control in the first place.
They bury themselves under excessive self-monitoring.
And in doing so, they create a kind of artificial drug inside themselves:
They try to suppress the discomfort of being out of control by becoming excessively controlling.
But that is not real control.
In the modern world, excessive control does not make the individual freer.
It does the opposite.
It traps them inside a cage they built themselves.
At the end of the day, a person can truly control only their own reactions, their own choices, and the direction in which they choose to move.
Demanding control beyond that means placing the weight of responsibilities you never asked for onto your own shoulders.
Control is not power.
It is a matter of boundaries.
A person who can draw that boundary within themselves becomes less dependent on the noise outside.
They begin to understand that they do not have to manage everything, resolve every uncertainty, or suppress every emotion.
And then only one question remains:
What will you do with what is actually in your hands?