CONTROL FREAK noun [ C ] - informal disapproving - someone who is determined to make things happen in exactly the way they want and who tries to make other people do what they want (Cambridge Dictionary)
Many times in my life, I’ve been called a ‘control freak.’ Understandably, I’ve always found this quite upsetting, as it’s an inherently negative label. But is it really my fault?
The more I think about it, the more I realise this ‘control freakery’ probably started in childhood. My own mother was queen of the control freaks and really struggled with anything outside of her normal routine. She wanted to control everything in our home… but why?
Chaos creates control freaks
The clear answer is that she had a traumatic childhood, one filled with chaos. As the eldest sibling of three, she was the most aware of hopping about to different homes, a sudden shift in status upon her mother leaving her abusive father to return to the North East, where they had nothing… but they did have love.
So, when she started her own family, she became obsessed with creating security for our family. To the point where she could incessantly save every penny, very rarely treating herself to anything nice, and eventually passing away having never fulfilled her dream of owning a campervan and travelling the UK.
For me, these memories are conflicted. Back then, I felt upset by being controlled. I wasn’t allowed to cook in the kitchen lest I make a mess, I had to be home hours before my friends, I would be scolded for leaving a single cup by my bedside. But equally, by keeping a tight hold of the reins, my mam was able to offer me a childhood she could only dream of — a fixed family home, cars, whatever clothes and food we needed… so, by being a control freak, she ensured everything stayed on track, even if it meant also creating a restrictive place to grow up.
My own ‘control freakery’ is different entirely, as I am trying very hard to break the intergenerational trauma (a topic for another time), but I do seek to control my own environment, likely out of fear, so I don’t experience overstimulation or even meltdowns.
For example, I don’t like being a passenger in a car. I always want to be the driver. Not because I don’t trust other people to drive, but more due to the fact I know I get car sickness, and I am embarrassed by what this might entail, so it’s better if I just drive.
Are all control freaks women?
As I write this, I have realised that I think being called a control freak is an inherently female thing. You’ll have to let me know in the comments, but I can’t imagine a male control freak. Other than an abusive antagonist from a Colleen Hoover novel.
Is this because society doesn’t want women to take control? So, it belittles us with terms like ‘control freak’ to make us feel like we are doing something wrong by simply asserting our boundaries. The other reason why women probably seek to control situations is that we simply have so much on our plates, without some semblance of control, everything will fall apart.
Even though millennial women are working hard to rise above society’s gender roles, it’s still very much impossible to fight against the system. The Gender Pay Gap still exists, and it widens at the typical age when women start a family. Add that to the poor maternity provisions, especially for the self-employed and those on zero-hours contracts, and you’ve got yourself a very stressed woman. The physical brutality of carrying and birthing a baby, combined with the stress of financial pressures, the mental load of being the go-to person for household tasks, and the general impact of being a woman in the Western world, is enough to create the worst control freaks.
There is so much we can’t control, so, of course, we seek to control other things as a coping mechanism for the uncertainty of our daily lives.
It’s the control freaks who get the washing done, make sure there’s bread for toast in the morning, craft World Book Day costumes, and keep track of bills and savings…
The control freaks often have to control things, because without them, everything will fall apart— that was certainly the case for my own mam.
I say: long live the control freak.
I can’t stop thinking about Potter turning 12 in May and have decided I will be hosting a birthday party for him. Here he is on a walk around the local pond, still full of life despite slowing down in recent years:
Here are some things I've enjoyed this week:
📺Big Boys - Season 3 (Channel 4) - Final season of this amazing sitcom, I am not ready for it to be over.
📺 Silo (Apple TV) - We are hooked.
📚Nesting by Roisin O'Donnell - Incredible novel about a woman escaping an abusive marriage with her children.
See you next week,
Ellen x
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💌 About this email
I’m Ellen, and I write about mental health for the chronically online. I am a freelance copywriter, strategist and web designer, and I work from home with my husband, Craig, at Content By The Sea. We have two rescue greyhounds, Potter and Harmony, and a toddler.
I started this newsletter in March 2020 and have sent over 200(!) emails; currently, I have over 1,300 subscribers. I write about a wide variety of topics, including diet culture, my love of running, jealousy, my life falling apart, mam guilt, and this dystopian world we all live in.
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This is great as always - on male control freaks, I think they get called other (more complementary) things, as is often the way.
My dad had a similar reaction to your mum to his childhood trauma by the sounds of it - his parents split when he was little and he was moved from Kent to Aldershot to live with his mum and her family. They told him they were going on holiday for a visit, and never went back...which meant he always had a funny relationship with holidays, and would be rigidly in control of the itinerary whenever we went away. I think in case any of us decided we weren't coming back.
His mum went out to work and earn, and he was expected to keep the house tidy and cook the meals from the time he was 10 or 11, and that meant he was always quite methodical about all of that in our house growing up. He would never leave a job half done, even if that meant spending all weekend on it, or being up into the night. I think that was through memory of what it would be like if his mum got home and things weren't exactly right.
He was very much a habitual creature - same chair, same time with his newspaper, same cup of tea. Same weekend activities. And would get annoyed if forced to deviate too much.
His own breaking of the trauma was to not force any of that onto my brother and me...but the overall image wasn't a control freak (although the behaviour was probably the same), instead he was a leader at work, a problem solver, a nurturer.
The difficulty of perception and expectation.