Control, Controlled
How many times have you heard, “Everything happens for a reason”? Following the tragic, unexpected death of my mother, I unfortunately heard from plenty of well-meaning but tone-deaf condolers.
Does everything happen for a reason? Yes, and most of the time that reason is: human actions have consequences. The reason is the human condition. For a concept so simple as cause and effect, we really jump through hoops to find any other explanation for our misfortunes.
Type A people and the faithful among us refuse to admit it, but the universe relies on chaos. Chemistry 101 tells us entropy is constantly increasing — the world is getting more random.
Tragedies happen because the world is structured in this specific way and humans have free will, and each choice we make has an impact. It is simple cause and effect. Other life-changing events— illness, disability, natural disasters — can be explained by simple science.
Contrary to the intended use of this platitude, everything does not happen for a “bigger” reason orchestrated by the universe or whatever deity one happens to believe in.
I did some calculations the other day and found that I’ve lived about 20% of my life without my mother: I’ve been alive for approximately 334 months. Mom has been gone for 69. 69/334 = ~.20. Twenty percent of my life. One-fifth, and that share will only continue to grow. Surely there is no larger reason for that. No cosmic purpose for her death — and even if there was, I’d curse the universe for making that trade at all.
The only part of life we can control is how we ourselves navigate the world — and even that can feel predestined. It may not seem like a whole lot, but given the infinite number of small choices we make every day, it adds up.
As adults, we often forget just how much agency we have in day-to-day life. While of course there are societal expectations and boundaries thrust upon us, as well as financial constraints, really we can choose to do anything we want, as long as we abandon the idea that the future is already set in stone.
Once we inure ourselves to the idea that there is no grand plan, the next step is to confront the fear of the unknown. Predestination may feel comforting to some, but I hate the idea of having no control over the course my life takes.
Hard determinists denounce the idea of “free will” and posit that we cannot take any action that we do not actually take. That gets too close to “we’re living in a simulation” theories, so I’ll stop at that — basically, I think that’s a load of garbage. Anyone who has been on the precipice of a huge life decision likely can describe that feeling: how easy it is to imagine the vastly different futures waiting in either direction. You know there is an alternate reality where you go down the other path, and that possibility hangs in the air. It’s really up to you.
While there are plenty of things outside of our control, we have more agency than we realize. When I was first diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes in December, I called it a “cosmic joke.” My mother, who had also lived with Type 1, had died five years prior. Even with a family history of T1D, someone only has a 1-9% chance of developing it. Calculating odds had always been a source of comfort for me — surely I wouldn’t be one in a million. But in this case, it only spurred anger at my bad luck.
Most of us feel at least once in our lives, usually in our teenage years, that the world is against us. I’ve been battling that feeling most of my life. But it’s an extremely narcissistic perspective. The universe doesn’t think of us, it is indifferent to our pain. Each of us as unimportant to it as the insects beneath our shoes.
Once the initial shock, anger, self-pity and “woe is me” mindset wore off, I entered a phase of reasoning. There must be some explanation for the almost ironic course my life had taken. My thought process began to mirror that of those “Reason” people I made fun of. I felt that I was “destined” to live like my mother — like that was the “big reason” it was happening, so she could live through me. But that’s total bullshit.
My body simply began generating antibodies that attack my pancreatic islet cells, for reasons that even scientists have trouble understanding. Neither God, the universe, nor my dead mother instructed the cells to do this. Most likely, a combination of genetics and viral infection did so.
Unlike in the case of my mother’s death, the discovery of my illness came with choices, with next steps. Hopelessness had consumed me in the aftermath of messy grief. There was no earthly way to change things, no matter how hard I tried to bargain with God. Medical misfortunes, although trying, can often come with options and potential for control (dependent upon financial and other circumstances, of course, which I won’t get into right now).
Objectively, actionable obstacles are better than those we have no control over. If you are a Reason PersonTM, or someone like me, who is reticent to trust their own power in tough situations, you might not think so at first. Letting the universe or Jesus take the wheel, so to speak, could seem like the easier course of action.
Science makes some of these problems pretty cut and dry: upon hearing my bloodwork results, I immediately started researching and making doctors’ appointments.
In my doctor’s referral, my diagnosis was listed as “uncontrolled” T1D. Once I began injecting insulin and keeping an eye on my blood glucose levels, my doctors began noting my condition as “controlled.” As far as metaphors go, that one was pretty stark to me.
With the flip of a switch, it seemed, my efforts in taking care of myself birthed real, tangible results in my bloodwork and numbers. As someone who craves concrete evidence, these results were immensely satisfying.
Taking the misfortunes of life at face value and not assigning some deeper, God-given reason to it allows you to tackle it in a practical way. Humans have a knack for extracting nonexistent meaning and complicated purposes from very simple situations. Of course it is comforting to think that a higher power is looking out for us, or that there is a “fate” we are each on a path to meet, but on the day-to-day, it’s not all that helpful to anyone.
Regaining that control, rather than relinquishing it to the “universe,” can be intimidating. Now we have to rely on our own abilities and decision-making skills. For someone who has always struggled with self-doubt, this is especially daunting. I have often described big decisions and new jobs taken on as walking on a precarious, crumbling bridge over a chasm. I felt like the floor, or my legs, could give out from under me at any second.
I’ve felt it before this— graduating and starting my career, switching jobs, applying to graduate schools. In order to change my circumstances, I had to put in the work on my own, rather than wait for instruction from a parent or professor. Gone are the days where my course was charted by class requirements and structured schedules.
Self-starting is likely tough for anyone, but depression and anxiety weighed me down especially. They suppressed my motivation and energy and convinced me that I would never be able to succeed at whatever it was I was looking to control. Clawing my way out of that hole time and time again involved faith in myself, rather than a higher power, on top of energy and self-determination I didn’t know I possessed.
I could have chosen to let any of these things out of my power consume me, or I could have ignored the problem and let it kill me. Passivity and self-destructive behavior felt like the easiest route. Finally, I am mustering up the courage to steer my own way, rather than let life just happen to me, and I have my own Reasons for that.
