Understanding how control can feel like safety, but quietly replace connection, flexibility, and trust.
When I think about control versus stability, the difference almost punches me in the throat. The truth is, it is not always easy to recognize in real time when you are being controlled or when you are stepping into something stable. Control feels like you do not have a say. It sounds like, “this is how it is, and you have to deal with it.” There is no room for discussion, no space for adjustment, and no real sense of partnership.
Stability, on the other hand, feels like mutual understanding. It is a willingness to meet in the middle through communication while creating an environment where both people feel considered. It feels balanced. It feels fair… and yes, it feels good.
I've learned the hard way about thinking I am safe and knowing when I am safe. On the surface, everything can look stable. A person can be present, provide, and even appear supportive in many ways. Over time, however, the small things begin to reveal a whole new reality nobody has seen before.
In 2020, my ex-husband and I welcomed our first son together. The pandemic alone was enough to shake my mental and emotional state, just like it did for many people. I started questioning my worth, even as a mother to a newborn child.
Going outside became my therapy. Walking, breathing, and having space to decompress helped me stay grounded. Being inside for days at a time did the opposite. It drained me, pulled me into depression, and took away the motivation I needed to take care of my children.
Sadly, my ex-husband had other plans.
Wanting space to breathe, to think, or even to step outside became a threat to him. Something as simple as going for a walk was no longer normal in his eyes. Slowly, I started to shrink, watching my freedom get pulled from underneath me.
His reasoning?
He believed I would run away and start a new relationship behind his back. Those thoughts, along with other insecurities, shaped the dynamic of our relationship for nearly six years… until I walked away with my children on Mother’s Day in 2025.
Control does not always show up as direct commands or aggression. Sometimes it shows up through emotional pressure, subtle restrictions, dismissal, or making someone feel like their needs are excessive or inconvenient. It becomes less about controlling what someone does physically and more about controlling how they think, feel, and respond. Over time, that kind of control can reshape a person’s sense of “normal” without them fully realizing it.
What makes it even more complex is that control often comes from fear and unpredictability. My ex-husband made it known that he chose to be unpredictable so that I could not anticipate his actions. The intention was to keep me on edge, to make sure I never felt too comfortable.
But if someone is consistently unpredictable… does that not make them predictable in a different way?
I will let that thought sit for a moment.
When someone has been hurt or has experienced instability, they may try to recreate security by tightening their grip on everything around them. This can include people, relationships, routines, or anything that feels valuable. The intention may not always be harmful, but the impact can still cause damage. Wanting control to feel safe does not automatically create a safe environment for everyone involved.
Instead, it creates confusion, pain, and resistance.
If I could leave y'all with some wisdom, it'll be this:
The most dangerous place to be is not realizing that control is happening at all.
I have lived this for most of my life—both in relationships and within my own environment. When you lack awareness, discernment, or the ability to question what is happening, you lose more than you realize. You lose time, energy, and pieces of yourself without understanding why nothing is changing.
Once awareness kicks in, even if it takes time, your perspective shifts. Without that awareness, everything repeats itself in different forms. You stay stuck in cycles that feel familiar, even when they are harmful.
After spending nearly six years in that relationship, I became hyper-aware. I started paying attention to everything—behavior, tone, patterns, reactions. I had to constantly re-ground myself because of the gaslighting that took place during difficult moments. Even now, I find myself observing more than engaging, making sure I understand who and what is around me.
I am learning the difference between control and choice… between free will and submission.
Leaving that environment and keeping my children close was one of the best decisions I have made. At the same time, I am learning that hyper-awareness, if left unchecked, can become another form of control. I am relearning what it means to surrender control to God while still standing firm in my boundaries. Right now, that balance keeps me guarded, grounded, and gentle all at once.
You cannot control what is uncontrollable. At some point, you have to let things be and allow life to unfold the way it will. That does not mean everything will turn out the way you want it to, but forcing outcomes rarely creates peace either.
Sometimes, holding on too tight does more damage than letting go ever could.
And if nothing else, let this sit with you for a while…
What feels like safety in your life right now?
And is it actually stability… or control?
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