The Control Freak’s Regime
I used to be a control freak. Still am slightly. Always was. Surprises? Hated them. Last-minute changes? Loathed. I craved order. Rigid routine. My father’s voice is always ringing in my head: plan ahead, manage time, never abort any mission halfway.
For 40 years, I thrived on it. Battle-ready. Efficient. Though my kids were prisoners to my agenda. School. Shower. Homework. Bed by 7:30 PM. I called it good parenting. Too afraid and tenacious to call it what it was: Control.
The Plan’s Collapse
Mid-2019, homeschooling cracked my control panel. Then COVID obliterated it. Routine vanished. My scaffolding crumbled. I floundered and struggled to find balance. Slowly, I learned to let go. To breathe. To face the unknown. It was an alien concept. Painful. But freeing. Unscripted moments became my teacher.
Teens Turn Nocturnal
My teens became nocturnal. My old control freak self would’ve fought it. Now? I let them be. They needed space. Freedom.
That shift unburdened me. I saw my control for what it was: baggage. I’d robbed them of joy. Pillow forts. Dirt play. Rain puddles. Forbidden by my OCD for which I have apologized to them in all my honesty.
Lisbon’s Unscripted Lessons
In Lisbon, my control freak ghost haunts me. I arrived with ‘rough’ plans. Language classes by week two. School/ activity clubs: asap. Friends: Integrate in all possible circles. Be productive.
Here in month three, Plans lag. No classes yet. Two clubs. But friends? Yes. There’s progress, not my old kind of intensity at trying things. Let go, Saba. Embrace the surprises.
Walking Away the Ghost
When control snaps back, I walk. Lisbon’s streets carry my frustrations. I breathe. Talk to myself. Advocate for my kids, Esam, and the reality at hand.
I try to respond, and not react. The old Saba fights. But I scrutinize her. Let go of perfection. Spontaneity bring joy. Not failure.
A New Kind of Freedom
Letting go isn’t a weakness. It’s overdue. Lisbon teaches me daily. My kids’ laughter is more precious than a tidy room. I know that they have to love their home enough to always remember it with a warm smile wherever they go eventually. And not dread coming back to it whenever they need to. Their squeals of joy, late night kitchen parties and gaming marathons fill our home and keep it alive. The ghost of back then has to fade. I’m learning to live in my now.
What part of yourself did you unlearn to grow? Share your story in the comments below—it means the world to us! Subscribe for more tales of letting go in Lisbon’s unscripted moments.
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