Growing up, we seemed to always have some sort of game going: Crazy Eights, Gin Rummy, Battleship, Risk, Stratego, Chess…. it was our family’s primary way of connection… So of course, I learned the art of strategy…of concurrently looking at Plan B, Plan C, Plan D – they make this move, and I make that move…. there’s such a bolt of energy when you feel you are close to the prize–anticipating the win…. just one or two more moves…. then someone takes your queen unexpectedly and you have to regroup…. Everyone holds their cards close to the chest and you have to become an expert in people reading….

How I love games like that. You feel in such control over your destiny–you have a plan….and it’s going to work.

But the question I’ve been asking myself lately is how do you turn that off? When does prior and proper planning become rehearsing disaster? How did the positive plan become holding all your chips in fear–folding every hand just to stay alive?

Sometimes I’ll rehearse conversations in my head: first I’ll say this (boom!) and then he will say that…. or maybe he’ll give a different reply–and I’m prepared with a plan. I always have a plan. But somehow, in my 50ish years, that plan has morphed into control. And the need to control comes from fear.

As a parent, I was so strict (sorry chickadees)—I mean next level strict. I was inwardly terrified they’d make a wrong move and have to suffer. I put all these barriers in the way of bad decisions–thinking I could control the outcome. I mean part of that is Good Parenting 101…..but the other part smacks of the pride of me thinking I move the stars and the moon–that I can control another person so they won’t fail–so they won’t fail me….or even fail themselves. Newsflash – stuff still happens….

Today, as I ran along the ocean path in Wailea on Maui, I pondered my dating life (or actually my potential dating life because I haven’t actually *gone* on a date, yet), and thought about that fear and control dynamic. Flirtations feel so good – they caress your ego, they whisper You are Worth Something, they give you this sliver of hope that something good is happening–kind of like getting ready to play all the cards in your hand on your next turn in Rummy… yeah I’m gonna win….

And I had this thought–what’s feeling really good to me right now isn’t a person–oh they may be cute, and just the right amount of sassy….but that’s not what’s pushing my buttons (after all, I don’t even know them—not really)….HOPE is the thing that beckons…. Hope is the magic…the thing that makes me smile…. the hope that life isn’t stagnant, the hope that something new and super cool is going to brew, the hope of being seen….and wanted…. I mean I know my value–what I bring to the table….but it takes hope to believe someone else is going to see it.

And when they don’t see it….you start to question yourself.

A few weeks ago, I was listening to Jackie Hill Perry expand on Hope….and misplaced hope. Her words resonated with me….because I am guilty! Misplaced hope is where things get off the rails. Misplaced hope is where we start holding on and controlling because we are hoping in something that cannot contain our dreams. We are hoping in something not meant to hold our self-worth in its hands… Jackie called it idolatry-I call it trust… Do I place all the trust of my value as a person in my bank account? Do I place my trust of my value in the hands of a man’s appreciation of who I am? Are my parenting skills the place I am putting all my worth–that if my kiddos fail, it means I am failing? Do I look to a glass of champagne trusting it to make the world brighter (well maybe it does a little….) Am I trusting my social media accounts to bring me a feeling of connection and approval–no matter how fleeting is is?

I mean in the moment, these things feel like they are firing on all cylinders….I’m getting that dopamine response inside me that I’m winning….. and the world feels good…. until it’s not… When things get quiet and my mind starts filling the silence…. and fear creeps in…. doubting….worrying….then controlling the next move…to force the outcome.

It’s not that any of these things are wrong–but when we put our *hope* in them–we start acting in fear….because our mind knows these things can’t truly offer hope. The stock market can crash, and our future can be gone. The man can ghost me and decide he’s not interested in me. The insta algorithm can change, and I no longer get likes and comments from my people…. I may get injured and my body shape changes… my kid may fail English…..or woodshop…. and I’ll have to explain to the whole neighborhood why Timmy isn’t graduating this year….

So circling back to dating…. when my value gets tied to how many times he’s texting me, or whether or not someone is interested in me after a few interactions, then I’m in danger of discouragement….doubt (all aspects of hopelessness)… or at least in danger of ordering that third glass of rosé….. If we had a good conversation, but he didn’t ask for my number….it’s okay. If they aren’t interested, why does that say to me I’m less than??? I mean, raise your hand if you were ever planning on putting someone in the friend box, and then they put you there first—OUCH–suddenly I go from disinterested to crushed… Girl–it’s all ego!! My worth isn’t based on an outcome. I shouldn’t outsource my value to things never meant to measure worth.

Here’s my value: I am a beloved chickadee of the creator of the universe who delights in sending me rainbows on weekend mornings, cardinals pecking at my window, snow kisses on my face, and primo parking spaces at the mall. He knows my crazy, and loves me anyway. I am precious to Him, and He has something pretty amazing out there for me….I just have to stop trying to do it myself long enough so He can step in and show me.

Cheers my loves!

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