#8 - The Joylessness of Control

I

“It sounds like you’re a planner. Is that fair to say?” asked the Coach.

I agreed.

“And it seems like you’re not mad about the outcome of not getting promoted as much as you’re mad about the fact that the plan changed. That your manager withdrew your name at the last second when that wasn’t your agreement.” I agreed with that too. I had acknowledged as much myself.

He then took it one step further. He asked me how I reacted to a change in plans outside of work. I said, “If someone else is making plans, I don’t interfere. I go with the flow. Especially if this is someone I trust. But if I’ve made plans and they don’t come to fruition, I am hard on myself and I’ll try to steer it back to a positive outcome.”

He said, “Okay, let’s say you decided with your friends you want to go out for Thai food. You’ve looked at the place, you’ve made the reservations, you’ve read through the menu, you’re excited about this dinner. Then you reach the place and your friend says, ‘Actually, I’m feeling like some fried chicken instead.’ How do you react to that?”

“I’d be disappointed. I was excited for Thai food. Now we need to find a new place. Don’t know whether that’ll be good or not. Who knows if we’ll get reservations. But after that initial disappointment, I’ll get over it and enjoy the fried chicken too.”

The Coach then said, “Even something as simple as a change in dinner plans threw you off. What happened with your manager is a much bigger breach of trust. It’s only understandable that you’re taking as long as you are to process it.” But as much as my Coach was helping me with this situation at work, he gave me something bigger - insight into a pattern that extended far beyond the office.

I’m a planner, I like to be in control, and sometimes that makes me a total killjoy.

II

When control became so important in my life, I don’t know. From an early childhood, I’ve been encouraged to “lead” in any capacity one can imagine, both at home and at school. Class monitor, house captain, school quiz team member, elder brother. Leading requires processing information quickly. Processing requires structure. Structure requires routine. Routine gives control.

Having a routine, planning for the next day - workouts, runs, meal plans, social engagements - all help with a sustainable life. My wife jokes sometimes that everything doesn’t require a Google Calendar invite. But all this control leaves little room for spontaneity. I love the idea of spontaneity but I don't know how much I'm actually able to practice it. Late night burger runs are now replaced with the guilt of “I’ve eaten well today, let’s not ruin it.”

Control isn’t bad. It helps keep life in order. But I also feel like I’ve let joy escape my life somewhere along the way.

III

My brother got engaged recently. He and his fiancée are both younger siblings. When he was telling me about his fiancee’s elder sister, he said, “she’s just like you, just more fun.” I think that’s when it hit me hardest. Where did the fun go? The childlike wonder is lost somewhere.

I think there's a lot of judgement I have placed on fun as much as I want it. Like reading beachy fiction is a bad use of my time or consuming too much reality TV is not productive (except Love is Blind, that is fire!). But my brother is SO happy watching every season of Roadies and Splitsvilla, or eating that extra vada pav because the first one was just so tasty. He’s happier for it, with everything! My brother may not necessarily be more spontaneous than me - he just doesn't judge himself for enjoying what he enjoys. The barometer of internal judgement I place on myself is too high. If I could let go of it, it would make life simpler maybe. I think my planning nature wouldn't go away but I would maybe become more easygoing?

IV

I’ve created this framework where “creation = good, consumption = bad,” and now even harmless fun gets filtered through that lens and feels morally inferior.

But the truth is some consumption feeds the soul, while some creation can be joyless. My brother's happiness watching Splitsvilla might be more valuable than forcing myself to write when I don't want to. I’m so focused on being productive and meaningful that I’ve lost permission to just... exist and enjoy things. Maybe the real question isn't "how do I become more spontaneous" but "how do I give myself permission to enjoy things without needing them to serve a higher purpose?”

V

Oreo is my dog. He’s a tiny little 12-pound Maltese/Havanese mix (so we think). He’s now 11 and has been with us for nine of those years. He’s got cute button eyes, an adorable face and so much love to give. And always has a lot to say. When Oreo first came home, my brother said one time, “Oreo’s got the life! He loves eating, sleeping, barking at the postman and getting treaties and scratchies. He's always living in the present, every moment. He gets knocked down, he shakes it off, literally.”

At the time I was working a different job which was more stressful than anything else I’d undertaken. I had migraines and anxiety and I’d wake up in night sweats. When I told my brother about this, he’d console me and say, “Veerji, you’re worrying for no reason. Look at Oreo, what would Oreo do?”

He was right. Oreo doesn't evaluate whether barking at the postman is "productive" or whether wanting treats is "meaningful consumption." He just experiences each moment without the meta-analysis. While I was creating complex frameworks about creation vs. consumption, my brother was looking at Oreo and thinking "that's how you live.” I’ve been searching for permission to enjoy simple pleasures while living with the perfect example of guilt-free enjoyment. Oreo doesn't need permission - he just is. The question is not "how do I give myself permission to enjoy things without needing them to serve a higher purpose?" but "how do I become more like my dog?”

Consumption vs creation is still an important framework. That routine and control helps me live a side of my life that gives me balance. But I was mistaken in looking at it as the only framework. After all the self-improvement and optimization, the answer for joy was always right there wagging its tail. It was "What would Oreo do?" - and the answer is usually just be present and enjoy what's in front of you. It’s easier said than done and this is not a new realization but it helps to live with someone who reminds you with every bark.

I mentioned in my first post wanting to spend more time with Oreo. Maybe he's not just a beneficiary of my time off - he's the teacher.