The Art of Seeking Help : Holding It All Together: The Illusion of Control
The Comfort of Responsibility
Being the youngest one in the family, I always enjoyed feeling important. Perhaps that sounds like an unusual way to begin a chapter on control, but over time I realised that the two were more connected than I had initially understood.
As my professional career progressed, I found myself naturally gravitating towards roles that carried responsibility. I enjoyed being trusted with important tasks and being seen as dependable. Every additional responsibility felt like recognition of my capability, and every successful outcome reinforced the belief that I was moving in the right direction. Looking back, I realise that I was not merely pursuing responsibility; I was pursuing the feeling that responsibility gave me. It made me feel valuable, needed, and important.
The more responsibility I took, the more significant I felt, and the more significant I felt, the harder I worked. Long hours stopped feeling unusual, additional tasks became routine, and I found myself volunteering for responsibilities that were never truly mine. Projects that required the collective effort of a team gradually became burdens that I carried almost entirely on my own shoulders. At the time, I considered this dedication because I believed I was demonstrating commitment, ownership, and leadership. And perhaps, in the beginning, I was.
When Responsibility Became Control
The transition was so gradual that I did not notice it happening. Initially, I wanted to contribute towards achieving the best possible outcome. However, somewhere along the way, I stopped focusing on my contribution and became attached to the outcome itself.
Responsibility slowly transformed into control. I started believing that if I worked harder, reviewed more, stayed longer, thought deeper, and carried more, I could somehow guarantee success. I wanted projects to succeed, expectations to be exceeded, and things to go exactly as planned. The intention was noble, but the assumption was flawed.
No meaningful outcome is ever created by one person alone. Every project is shaped by multiple contributors, competing priorities, changing circumstances, and factors that no individual can fully influence. Yet I behaved as though the final outcome rested largely on my shoulders, failing to recognise that there is a difference between taking responsibility for your efforts and taking responsibility for the outcome itself. One is healthy. The other is exhausting.
The Cost of Controlling Outcomes
The cost of this mindset was not immediately visible. In fact, for a while it appeared to work. I became known as someone who could be relied upon, and with that reputation came more work, more responsibility, and more opportunities.
However, beneath the surface, something else was happening. As I became increasingly attached to achieving a particular outcome, I became less open to alternative ways of reaching it. Feedback began to feel personal, differing opinions felt frustrating, delays felt unnecessary, and whenever something deviated from the plan I had envisioned, I experienced it as resistance rather than information.
My intention was never to be controlling. I simply wanted the best possible result. Yet the more attached I became to the outcome, the more difficult it became to genuinely collaborate.
Ironically, people initially wanted to help. They offered suggestions, shared ideas, and volunteered support. But over time, many stepped back. Some assumed I had everything under control, others felt their contributions were unnecessary, and a few simply adapted to a system where I consistently stepped forward whenever uncertainty emerged.
I thought I was helping the project. In reality, I was preventing the project from helping me, and that realisation forced me to confront a difficult truth: control often begins when we overestimate our influence and underestimate the contribution of others.
The Art of Seeking Help
One of the biggest misconceptions about seeking help is that it requires us to surrender responsibility. I no longer believe that.
The art of seeking help in situations driven by control is not surrender; it is honest and active dialogue. The shift happened when I stopped asking myself how I could ensure the outcome and started asking what I might be missing. Perhaps I did not need more effort. Perhaps I needed more perspective. Perhaps I did not need to work harder. Perhaps I needed to listen better.
The quality of my work began to improve when the quality of my conversations improved. Instead of trying to manage every variable, I became curious about the variables I had overlooked. Instead of assuming I already knew the answer, I became more willing to hear viewpoints that challenged my own. This did not make me less responsible; it made me more effective.
I realised that help does not always arrive in the form of solutions. Sometimes it arrives as constructive criticism, disagreement, or a perspective that forces us to rethink an assumption we have become attached to. Control sees these moments as threats, whereas dialogue sees them as support. Support becomes much easier to recognise when we are no longer trying to control every outcome.
A Shift in Perspective
Today, I view responsibility very differently. My responsibility is not to control the outcome but to contribute honestly, diligently, and thoughtfully towards it. The outcome itself belongs to a larger ecosystem of people, circumstances, timing, and factors that extend far beyond my individual efforts.
There is peace in recognising this distinction. I understand that promotions, recognition, and achievement often reward those who go above and beyond, and there is nothing inherently wrong with striving for excellence. However, I eventually realised that my goal was never to prove my worth. My goal was to deepen my knowledge, strengthen my expertise, and create meaningful impact through my work.
The day I stopped using achievement as evidence of my worth was the day I experienced a sense of peace that I had been searching for throughout my professional life.
Reflection
If this chapter resonates with you, sit with these questions gently:
Am I taking responsibility for my efforts, or am I trying to take responsibility for the outcome itself?
Where in my life am I mistaking control for commitment?
What support have I unintentionally pushed away because it did not arrive in the form I expected?
Am I pursuing excellence, or am I pursuing perfection?
What would change if I replaced control with honest and active dialogue?
Perhaps the greatest irony of control is that it seeks certainty but often creates isolation. And perhaps the truest form of seeking help in such moments is not surrendering responsibility, but engaging in honest dialogue with ourselves and others.
Because life was never meant to be managed alone.
Comments