MINDSET TRAPS OF PARENTING TEENS IN THE EMPTY NEST—TRAP #4: THE ILLUSION OF CONTROL—LETTING GO OF ANXIETY AND NOT YOUR KID | EP. 215
Welcome to the Almost Empty Nest Podcast, where we moms of teens and college kids reframe what letting go really means to feel more connected, confident, and at peace. I'm your host, Master Coach Jennifer Collins.
Have you ever felt that panic that if you don't stay on top of things with your big kid, that something might go terribly wrong? You feel that urge to say the right thing, to remind them one more time, or to give them advice they didn't ask for. This urge doesn't come from wanting to control your kid. It comes from love, especially when life becomes so uncertain as your kids grow up.
Today, I'm continuing the Mindset Trap series with a focus on the illusion of control. Once you understand why your brain keeps pulling you into fixing and managing, and how much that's actually costing you, you'll see a different way to support your kid without carrying so much anxiety. This episode is going to change how you think about helping, letting go, and finding real peace in this stage of motherhood. Let's dive in.
Hello, my friend. Today, I want to talk about control. And I want to acknowledge right off the bat that this word itself can be really triggering for us moms.
I think the biggest reason it's triggering is because we don't want to be controlling. We have a picture in our minds about what being controlling looks like, and it feels like the opposite of who we're trying to be with our kids, or really anyone we have a relationship with. We want to be supportive.
We want to be loving. We want to be helpful. So even thinking about the possibility that we might be controlling can feel almost distasteful.
And if your big kid has ever accused you of being controlling or trying to control their life, it hurts. It feels awful. It feels like such a slap in the face.
And our first instinct is often to get defensive. Because from our perspective, we're not trying to be controlling. We're just trying to help.
And that's really where this conversation needs to start. Because the real question we need to ask ourselves isn't, am I controlling? But rather, what is the line between helping and trying to influence your kid in a way that might feel like control? And notice how I said trying to influence in a way that feels like control. Because if you're a mom of a big kid, you already know from experience that a lot of what we try doesn't actually work out the way we hope it would.
We do our best, and we still can't change how our kids feel. We often can't change how they show up, and we definitely can't guarantee the outcomes we want for them. The good news and bad news is that sometimes what we try works.
Sometimes there's that moment where they finally take your advice, or they open up to you, or we solve something together, and that feels amazing. There's this rush of relief, like, okay, that worked. And look, whether what we try works or it doesn't work, whether they welcome our advice or call us controlling, I truly believe that in our hearts, we're trying to help.
And I want to invite you to hear this entire conversation in that context. Because what I know about you is this. From the moment your child was born, you wanted them to be safe, happy, and successful.
That started when they were really tiny. You wanted them to learn to walk, to talk, and read. You've been coaching and guiding and nurturing your kid into being a capable, kind human being their entire lives.
And this has been your life's work as a mother. And that doesn't just stop when your kid gets older and stops wanting or valuing your input. And we're always going to be our kids' mom.
I don't know that there's ever going to be a point, no matter how old our kids are, where we stop caring deeply about wanting the best for them. And I'll be the first to admit it, not only do I want my kids to be safe, happy, and successful, but I feel the sense of constantly waiting in the wings for an opportunity to play a role in helping them achieve these goals. So this is where the line between helping and controlling gets confusing.
Because these things that we do as moms, the checking in, the reminding, the conversations we try to have, the boundaries we try to set, all of these efforts can fall into either category, helping or controlling. That's why this mindset trap, the illusion of control, is so tricky. Essentially, the illusion of control is the belief that if you say the right thing, or stay on top of your kid, or manage things closely enough, or help in just the right way, you can change how your kid feels, or how they behave, or the results they get.
And then you'll finally be able to feel okay. The biggest difference between helping and the illusion of control isn't actually what you're doing on the outside. It's what's happening on the inside for you.
It's the mindset you're bringing to your help, and what you believe your effort is supposed to be changing. And here's the key concept I want to invite you to consider throughout this episode. Falling into the illusion of control feels like helping.
It feels like being a good mom. But it doesn't bring you peace. Looking back, I was honestly the poster child for the illusion of control when my boys were younger.
This is just kind of how I've always operated in my life. I had this belief that if you worked hard enough, if you stayed on top of things, if you kept all the chess pieces on the board and made the right moves, that everything would turn out okay. And when things were actually in my control back when they were little, this approach worked pretty well for me.
I mean, there were plenty of times when I was raising my boys that it helped me, and possibly even helped them. But it stopped being so helpful when my oldest started high school. I was on top of that kid's schoolwork like it was my second job.
I checked assignments. I reminded him about deadlines. I asked him if he was studying enough.
Part of my worry, and even anxiety, about his academics came from the fact that he was taking some classes that I was afraid were going to be too difficult for him. I remember thinking that maybe we'd put him in the deep end too quickly. And sure enough, the first couple of tests didn't go so great.
So that fear that we'd made a bad call just got reinforced. I remember asking him at one point if he wanted to drop his hardest class, but he didn't. He felt like he was doing what he wanted to be doing, and he thought he could figure it out.
So meanwhile, I start thinking, okay, we've made our bed. Now we have to make this work. Notice already the we in my thinking, that we had to make this work.
In this one class in particular, it was physics. It felt like every assignment was a family affair. I know nothing about physics, but I was so invested in getting him successfully through this class, as evidenced by the number of times I would ride him about how hard he was working, that he should be working harder.
I wasn't even necessarily worried about him getting an A. I just didn't want him to fail so early on in his freshman year. The thing that made this especially tricky is that at that point, my son was pretty receptive to my help. He was only a freshman, and he was still letting me be involved.
So it was actually really easy for me to convince myself that I was helping. But when I look back now, I can see that what I was really doing was micromanaging his academic experience so that I could ease my anxiety. And if I'm really honest, I was involved in a lot of other areas in his life in the same way.
But what's really interesting for me to reflect on now is that even when my son wasn't pushing back yet, even when he was still receptive to my help, the illusion of control was already costing me my peace. Because I was constantly thinking about my son's challenges with school, his challenges with friends or other areas of his life, the times he looked stressed or unhappy. I felt this compulsion to constantly check in with him.
I was always wondering if he was doing enough or if I needed to be doing more. So notwithstanding all of my efforts, I was still constantly worried about him. Then fast forward a year or two when he didn't want my help anymore.
Then his pushing back caused another layer of stress because our relationship started to feel strained. And it was only then that I started realizing I had to take a look in the mirror and question how I was going about helping my son. But here's what I can see now that I couldn't see then.
The damage I was doing to myself started long before it ever showed up in my relationship with my son. Because even when he was listening and letting me help, I rarely felt at peace. So I wonder if this resonates with you.
Even if your kid isn't pushing back, even if they still let you stay involved, do you still feel like you're constantly thinking about them, replaying conversations, wondering if you should say something or if you've already said too much? Thinking about how they should be doing things differently, trying to come up with solutions that they haven't even asked you for. It's like you can always be scanning your kid for signs that they're okay, if they need help, wondering if what you're doing is enough or if it's working. And look, at the same time, there are definitely times when our kids need our help or our input.
There are even times when they need to hear things we have to say even if they don't want to. And so I'm never going to suggest to you that you shouldn't be involved or offer your help. This line between helping and controlling, it's less about what you're doing and more about the driving reason behind why you're doing what you're doing.
The illusion of control, it isn't a function of you doing anything wrong. It's honestly a function of the reality that this stage of motherhood is genuinely hard. As our kids grow up, the stakes feel so much higher.
The decisions feel bigger. And at the same time, our role and our influence feels really unclear. We're not directing our kids' lives in obvious ways anymore, but we still feel responsible for their success and well-being.
So you care a lot, but you can control very little. And that disparity is incredibly uncomfortable. So the way our minds process this uncertainty is that they look for some way to gain back some control by trying to manage or fix or stay on top of the situation.
Essentially, your brain convinces you that your peace depends on your kid doing something differently. That if they would just try harder or open up more or take your advice or make better choices, then you could finally relax. But that's the trap.
Because as long as your peace is dependent on your kid's behavior or moods, you'll never feel like you've done enough. Because even when things are going fine, your mind stays on alert, waiting for the next shoe to drop, trying to problem-solve and plan ahead and prevent the possibility of future pain. And this is where it helps to understand just a bit about how our brains are wired.
Because we can tend to hear all of this and think that there's something wrong with us, that we react a certain way. But the truth is, many of our default reactions are connected to how our brains work. At the most basic level, your brain is always trying to do three basic things.
Keep you safe, comfortable, and make things as easy and efficient as possible. So our minds are processing the information of our lives with the goal of finding ways to avoid pain, seek comfort, and reduce uncertainty. And so when you think about it through that lens, the illusion of control actually makes perfect sense.
Because as our kids grow up, things feel less predictable. We don't have the same visibility into their lives, we don't know what they're thinking, we can't always even tell if they're okay. And our brains don't like that uncertainty.
It feels really uncomfortable. And so our brains try to eliminate that discomfort by convincing us that we need to do something, come up with a plan, try to get our kid to listen, remind them, and if they don't listen, try to say it a different way. Our brains don't want to let it go until we've reduced the risk or prevented the pain.
And we're literally convinced that this is what we need to do in order for us to be at peace. Let me give you a few really tangible examples of how this shows up for us. I've worked with moms whose kids are struggling with a lot of stress or disappointment.
Maybe they didn't do as well in school as they'd hoped, or they got rejected from the schools they'd applied to, or they didn't get the job or the internship they were hoping for. Basically, something they were working towards didn't work out. And I think we can all relate that watching our kids struggle with that kind of disappointment can feel really hard.
So what we often do is that we jump in. We start trying to brainstorm options with our kid, and offer advice and solutions. We can get stuck in the worry that our kid might make a wrong next step, that maybe this disappointment will turn into something bigger.
Essentially, we're thinking if we don't help them figure this out now, that things will go really badly in the future, and that then we'll have failed them. It's interesting that when moms tell me about these situations, I'll ask if they trust their kid to figure out what to do on their own. And often what they'll say is, it's not that I don't trust them.
But then they pause, because they wonder if that were really true, why they can't just let it go, let their kid figure it out on their own. Especially if their kid isn't really asking for their help. But the reason it's so hard to let go is because we're trying to both relieve our pain right now, and the future pain we imagine if things don't get better.
I mean, of course, we don't want our kids to be in pain. But the truth is, we also don't want ourselves to be in pain. I've also worked with moms who can feel really uncomfortable because their kid might seem okay on the outside, but they're not really sure they can trust it.
Maybe their kid has struggled with something in the past, and so there's always this dark specter of worry that the struggles will rear their head again. So even when nothing is obviously wrong, we check in, we interview for pain, we ask how things are going, or look for signs that our kids are okay, that they're happy. We fear that they're struggling and they're just not telling us.
We're essentially looking for that feeling of relief, that reassurance that they're okay. And then if we get it, we do feel that moment of peace and relief, until the uncertainty comes back. So we're constantly needing that reassurance from our kid to let go of our anxiety.
Essentially, we default to seeking that comfort from our kid. I've also worked with many moms who feel uncomfortable when their kid's path feels uncertain or open-ended. This comes up a lot when kids finish college and they end up back home.
They're looking for a job, considering graduate school, but meanwhile, they're spending a lot of time in their room, not making clear progress towards whatever comes next for them. So the problem for these moms is there's no clear plan, no obvious timeline. Moms have told me, I feel trapped.
Their kid's future is uncertain, and it seems there's no end date to the discomfort of sitting in that uncertainty. So needless to say, in the face of that discomfort, our minds are going to keep trying to find solutions. We're also constantly looking to our kids for evidence of progress.
And when we see evidence of the opposite, those hours of scrolling online rather than evidence of job interviews and grad school applications, we get frustrated. Then we feel like we need to work harder to get our kids to motivate. All of that mental and emotional effort takes energy on our part, and our brains on autopilot don't like that either.
So we continue to do everything we can to move toward a plan, really any plan that gives us some sense that we're moving forward and making progress. So for example, we might encourage our kid to take a job that they're not excited about, just so there's a plan. And on the one hand, that sounds reasonable and practical to get our kids to make some progress.
But it's also interesting to consider how much of that pushing is coming from what's best for our kid versus an attempt to feel a bit of a sense of relief from the discomfort of our own uncertainty. In all of these situations, these moms aren't doing anything wrong, and they're not trying to be controlling. In fact, in most cases, they're simply responding to a very human instinct to avoid pain, seek comfort, and reduce uncertainty.
So these attempts to manage and guide and influence, they give our brains something to do, something that feels responsible and productive in the moment. But the reality is, these attempts to gain some sense of control over the uncertainty are an illusion. Because no matter how much effort you put in, you can't actually control how your kid feels, the choices they make, or how their path unfolds.
All you can do is temporarily quiet your own discomfort, but it doesn't last. Because the uncertainty doesn't change. So let's talk about the cost of this mindset trap.
Because even though the illusion of control promises some relief, safety, and reassurance, it actually bears a cost. And the first cost is your peace. When you're caught in the illusion of control, your mind never really gets to rest.
Even when nothing is wrong, you're still thinking about your kid, wondering how they're doing, wondering if you should check in, or if there's something you're missing. You find you're always stuck feeling this background pressure and anxiety, this feeling that you're responsible for staying on top of things so nothing falls apart. And that constant mental effort creates anxiety and not peace.
The second cost of this mindset trap is your confidence. Because when your peace depends on how your kid is doing, you doubt yourself any time they struggle. Even if there's nothing you can actually do to change or fix whatever challenge they're facing, it can become almost impossible to trust yourself or give yourself credit for doing your best because you're measuring the impact of your efforts on outcomes you can't actually control.
And the third cost of this mindset trap is your connection with your kid. Because even when you have the best of intentions, your efforts to manage and influence your kids can create pressure. And pressure doesn't invite connection, it actually can create distance.
When our kids sense our anxiety and our need for them to change so we can feel better, they almost naturally pull away. They start sharing less and might even push back. And they might get the sense that they're being managed and maybe even controlled instead of being truly supported.
And look, it makes so much sense that our minds default to trying to help and fix and guide and influence. And sometimes our kids genuinely do need us to step in and do those things. But this is where it becomes incredibly valuable to pause.
Before you step in, before you offer advice, or before you try to guide things in a certain direction, it can be really powerful to ask yourself one simple question. Am I doing this because my child truly needs me right now? Or because I'm looking for safety, comfort, and certainty? Right about now you might be hearing this and thinking, I get it, I need to learn to let go of control. But also, I wouldn't blame you if even the thought of letting go, especially in situations that your kid might be facing that feel really stressful or risky or even dangerous, letting go can feel like the opposite of what you want or even should be doing.
So let me be clear about how I want to invite you to think about letting go. Letting go does not mean you give up and you stop caring about what happens to your kid. I mean, it would be impossible for us to do this anyway.
Letting go also doesn't mean you stop wanting the best for your kid or that you ever stop being their mom. You're always going to care. The truth is, you're also always going to have opinions and even expectations.
And so that also means that you're not always going to approve of every choice your kid makes. You're probably always going to feel that pull to help when your kid is struggling. That part of you may never go away, nor should it.
It is such an integral part of being a mom. At this point, I think it's woven into our DNA. Letting go also doesn't mean pretending you're fine with things you're genuinely worried about or giving up on your boundaries or expectations.
What letting go really means is releasing the belief that your peace depends on your kid doing something differently. And this isn't because whatever you want for your big kid doesn't matter, but truly because these outcomes are not in your control. So my friend, I want you to think about letting go not as not caring or giving up, but as recognizing what is actually in your control and what isn't.
Because you can't control how your child feels or the choices they make or the timeline of their growth or the lessons they need to learn. Their mindset, their emotional experience, their effort, none of that is in your control. But there is so much that is in your control.
Because you, my friend, have control over the thoughts you choose to believe, over your emotional experience and how you show up, whether you react from fear and frustration or unconditional love, support, and respect for your child's journey. Let me give you an example of what this looks like. Imagine your kid comes to you and tells you they're struggling with something.
When you're stuck in the illusion of control, you feel your anxiety come up and then you react by trying to fix the situation. Your mind starts trying to problem solve. You ask a lot of questions and you give advice.
You're actively involved in helping your kid think through options, not because they asked you to fix it, but because you feel uncomfortable watching them struggle. Letting go of the illusion of control looks like sitting with your big kid in that moment and letting the discomfort be there, both for them and for you. It's listening without jumping in with advice.
It's resisting the urge to steer the conversation toward a solution so you can feel better. You might say something like, that sounds really hard, and then stop talking. You might give them space to process what they're going through and come up with their own solutions.
And even though there might be a really big part of you that wants to do more, wants to help them feel better or move things forward, you don't jump in. You trust that they're allowed to take time to feel disappointed or frustrated, and you trust that they're going to find their way through it, even if you can't see how yet. What's powerful about this isn't that your kid suddenly feels better.
It's that you are able to stay present without trying to control the outcome. And there is incredible power in being able to do this, because rather than fueling your anxiety, it gives you the space to care for it, to acknowledge it without letting it spiral. It also gives you the space to actually see your big kid and how much they are in the thick of the process of growing up, of figuring things out.
It is so messy, but it is also so beautiful to be present for this stage of their growth. As you're able to be present with it, you also start to gain confidence in them, not at all because they have all the answers, but because they're building the muscle of figuring things out, of working through their own painful emotions, building resilience and strength to face whatever comes next for them. And as you build trust and confidence in your big kid, you also build this trust in yourself.
Because even though things can look really messy in this stage of motherhood, I'm willing to bet that there is also so much evidence that you've given your big kid everything they need to be successful. I want you to just imagine the power of showing your big kid that you believe in them, in their capacity to figure things out. You can always make it clear that you're there to help if they need you, but you can also make it clear that you don't necessarily need their life to look a certain way so that you can feel okay.
In truth, all your big kid wants is to figure out how to be grown up and independent, and when you give them that space, they may not say it, but they appreciate it. My friend, if there is actually a way for you to help, by all means do it. But if there's not a clear way for you to step in, are you doing it because your big kid needs you or because you need to so that you can try to feel better? Learning how to tell the between helping from love and stepping in from fear isn't something we're taught.
If anything, we've learned from experience that the way to deal with uncertainty is to try to fix it, especially when it comes to our kids. So learning how to find peace and confidence in the face of that uncertainty is something new, but it's actually a skill set that you can learn. And this is exactly the work we do inside my coaching program, Mom 2.0. In this program, I help you learn how to understand when your mind is pulling you toward control and how to respond in a way that creates peace instead of anxiety, confidence instead of self-doubt, and connection instead of pressure.
You can learn all about the program through the link in the show notes. My friend, you don't need to have all the answers. You don't even need your big kid's life to go perfectly to believe that you're a good mom.
What I am willing to bet is that you are always already trying your best, always loving and supporting your big kid in the best way you can. And I know that's not easy, but could you imagine letting go of the pain that comes from the belief that your peace depends on your big kid being different than they are right now? That if they would just figure it out, or make a different choice, or feel better, that then you could finally feel better. What if you didn't have to wait to find peace? When you learn how to let go of the illusion of control, you not only gain the power to stay calm in the face of your big kid's challenges, but you also give your kid the space to struggle and learn and to figure things out in their own way.
And in that space, what grows isn't distance, but trust, and a deeper, more open relationship with your big kid, but also with yourself. My friend, this chapter of motherhood isn't about letting go of your kid. It's about letting go of the belief that you have to control the journey in order for you to feel okay.
And when you do that, you find a steadier, calmer, more confident version of yourself, one who can love fiercely, trust themselves, and find peace in the face of the uncertainty of this time of life. You have more power inside of you than you think, my friend. Until next time.
If you enjoyed this episode, I'd love for you to check out my next free masterclass. There's a link in the show notes. You have more power than you think, my friend.
