"Am I a controlling parent?"

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controlling parent

I still remember where I stood that Sunday. I must have been three or at the oldest four. The church’s smell of coffee drifted above the part in my hair, crisply pleated lines of men’s suit trousers at my level.

I reached up to take again my dad’s hand, callused and rough from years of farm chores. Yet the chuckle I heard wasn’t his.

Most of us have a short, uneventful anecdote like this: I took a hand, but it wasn’t my parent’s. Yet for me as a child, surrounded by a sea of bodies seven times their size–I only remember the fright sprinting through me.

The man was polite. The problem wasn’t that he lacked kindness.

It was that he didn’t love me, wasn’t in charge of protecting me, wasn’t mine.

Author and spiritual director Alice Fryling suggests situations like these as a metaphor for the coping mechanisms which have served us (in varying degrees of health) all our lives.

But we’re holding a hand–a source of motivation and nurture–that doesn’t love us or genuinely care for us.*

Who’s in charge here?

Recently I realized a certain person has come to mind almost daily in my parenting for years–a person who passed away years ago.

I knew their parenting to be a bastion of control and order. Everyone knew who was in charge.

I hadn’t even realized how often this person was coming to mind. But just last week, when I examined their presence in my mind, I comprehended how frequently I felt afraid and insecure as my kids tumbled into teenagerhood.

As someone who struggles with overfunctioning and occasionally enabling my kiddos, I was subtly comparing myself to whether I was taking the control I could have over my kids.

Did I mention I was nearly always coming up wanting?

Interestingly, this person wasn’t someone who I knew to be a deep lover of God. When I stepped back, I didn’t even think, “I hope my kids turn out like theirs.”

I even think this person may have been a controlling parent–an authoritarian parent (as opposed to authoritative). Jessup University reports that as children in these homes become adults, consequences for this level of control can include aggression, as well as

Developing a “follower” mentality where these children have trouble deciding things for themselves
Difficulty discerning right from wrong on their own
Low self-esteem and seeking confirmation of their worth from outside authority figures

Still, in my default factory mode, something suggested I should have that level of control with my kids. When the world goes pear-shaped, a primal part of me thinks making a rule or exerting authority is probably a pretty great solution.

Don’t miss FEAR: 4 WAYS IT’S ROBBING YOU AND YOUR KIDS BLIND

The only hand to hold

Intriguingly, operating out of fear and operating with wisdom may often look the same.

But the hand they hold isn’t.

In my experience, parenting is chockful of fear. Everywhere.

Loving someone so much naturally carries a desire to protect and preserve. That fear is an amoral emotion that keeps us from kissing our kids on the forehead to say, “Have a great day, honey! Go play in traffic, talk to strangers and get in their vehicles, and don’t bother washing your hands after the bathroom.”

Fear in parenting is a given. But as I read recently, emotions are like kids. You can’t let them drive the car, but you shouldn’t stuff them in the trunk, either.

Controlling parent? First, be aware

Of course, most controlling parents don’t think they’re controlling. They just know the right way to do things, and love and protect their kids, right? (“Call me a ‘control enthusiast.’)

So first, to unstuff the aforementioned trunk–let’s be aware of when we’re afraid. Then, we can manage the fear, rather than fear subtly or not-so-much managing us.

When I’m relying primarily on my authority and structure to set the world right, I’m essentially trusting–holding the hand of–control. That’s where my confidence lies.

Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God. Psalm 20:7

And unhealthy control (versus wise management of our homes) is the extension of my fear. Some of the most controlling parents I’ve known have been parents who’ve loved dearly–but wrestled with deep fear. And often because of things that happened to them as kids, including authority figures with whom they felt unprotected.

Those situations have a way of making us vow, That will never happen to my kid.

Yet God casts a far greater vision for me as a parent. He asks me to first rely on who he says I am: a deeply beloved child of God.

I can trust him with my kids rather than myself because his is the only reliable hand to hold.

Thus says the Lord: “Cursed is the man who trusts in man and makes flesh his strength, whose heart turns away from the Lord.” Jeremiah 17:5

Heads up: Parenting driven by love may not always mean we manage our kids perfectly. But our management of our kids no longer propels our identity.