Please Excuse My Rant: Control Freaks are Wimps!

Let me start with a disclaimer… I hate control freaks. I don’t care what their motivations are, be it political, religious, greed, or psychological. I simply hate them. My psychoanalytic friends would argue that my feelings come from deep-seated childhood issues, and they are probably correct. Friends who know me well would argue that I am just a disagreeable old coot. I think that they are also correct, although I have always been this way, even when I was young. I could probably be diagnosed with PCD (Pervasive Coot-itis Disorder). Others would argue that I am just an asshole, and I admit that I do have my moments. But, here is the real reason I hate control freaks… I think they are cowardly, yellow-bellied, simpering little wimps who hide their fears by bullying and intimidating people around them, all because they are terrified of what might happen if someone else actually had some control.

I confess that I am the product of such a parent. My mother ruled our house with an iron fist. It wasn’t just the regular corporal punishment for even the smallest offenses. Her nightly verbal assaults on the family were enough to drive my father to hide in their bedroom to escape her sharp-tongued attacks. I watched her castigate teenage trick-or-treaters just for being “too old”, and “educate” fellow church members for being “condescending sexists”. Her drunken tirades sucked the fun out of many a social gathering. And her need to “organize” every facet of our lives was pathological. My brother and I were raised to always be on time for everything, which drives my laid-back So Cal wife crazy. The color of my clothes had to match correctly, at least according to my mother’s rules. I was only recently psychologically fit enough to buy a shirt with both blue and brown in it. The groceries always had to be bagged correctly at the grocery store in line with my mother’s vision of proper organization. We were to treat strangers with the utmost consideration, only to have our mother later dissect every aspect of their character behind their backs. With the help of a loving wife, good friends, and more than one counselor, I have spent a lifetime learning to “lighten the fuck up.” My brother was not so lucky, never getting over his own OCD-like behavior before he committed suicide in his sixties.

But the real victim was my mother. No matter how much she tried to control the world around her, to drown and medicate herself with alcohol and valium, or to pray and meditate her way to freedom later in life, she could never shake her terror of being out of control, of being discovered and institutionalized for her self-perceived insanity. Yes, my brother and I were scarred by a desperate, terrified mother who simply could not let go of the reins. I would not trade places with my mother, I think I understand her, and I have come to have some compassion for her. But I also have compassion for those of us who were the victims of her fear and desperation.

I have generally avoided entanglements with women like my mother. If anything, my wife tends to be a bit too accommodating. But I think our happy marriage is the product of our mutual efforts to create an egalitarian relationship and our honest desire to help each other realize our dreams. It should be noted, however, that this is neither of our first marital rodeos, and we both swore to make this one work!

I have had my share of control freak co-workers. My low tolerance and too-quick tongue have often gotten me in trouble with them. I have generally tried to deal with them by distancing myself from their controlling behavior. This strategy does not always work, because nothing causes a control freak to panic like someone who rebels against them by simply walking away. But my avoidance has saved me many unproductive and unpleasant run-ins.

Most of the conflict I have had in work settings has come from my defending co-workers who seem to be too timid to stand up for themselves. This obviously pisses off the control freak, and it often annoys the people I am defending. My family jokes about me needing to retire my Batman costume. I think the explanations for my compulsive rescuing behavior are obvious, given my childhood. However, I am happy to report that I have made some progress on that front. I have learned to respect the autonomy of my colleagues to exercise the same rights I have, the right to stand up for themselves or walk away.

Now for my real rant… As I watch the unraveling of our society and erosion of a once great land of the free and the brave, I am again struck by the cowardice of those who seek to control the lives of their neighbors. Politicians who pass cruel laws to punish men for dressing as women are simpering little cowards. The racism that drives some people to oppress other people for being just a little darker is nothing more than shameless fear. Our nation is filled with too many terrified little weenies who can’t go to the grocery store or place of worship without packing a gun, people who are afraid of hearing stuff that threatens their beliefs, and people who are intimidated by other folks who worship Gods different from theirs. We have become a nation of control freaks who are willing to sacrifice our own freedom to protect ourselves from anything we cannot control. And while I have spent a fair amount of time bitching about the problems in our country, I kind of liked all that freedom shit.

Oh, and I fucking hate control freaks! But I digress…