Control What You Can

The world is in a wonky way. In the big picture, there’s little I can do about it.

What seems like an out-of-control world can be disorienting and disempowering—leaving us feeling like leaves in the wind, tossed by the currents of chaos.

That’s why it’s so important to exercise control where we can, in our own tiny sphere of influence. 

If the world is spinning wild, and I feel like my life is too, that’s a recipe for misery. 

Psychologists call this “locus of control”—how much I believe I can shape my own life. 

There’s two kinds: internal, where I see my actions driving what happens, and external, where it’s all luck, fate, or someone else’s call. 

I’m at the internal end of the spectrum—always have been—but here’s the thing: you can shift toward it. It’s not set in stone.

Research says individuals with an internal locus come out healthier, mentally and physically, because they don’t just sit passively—they act.

In times like these, when everything’s upside down, that internal locus feels like a lifeline. 

People who lean external might feel helpless, like the world’s craziness is running the show—studies say they’re more prone to anxiety, even burnout, because they’re waiting for something outside to fix it. 

But an internal locus? It’s a shield. It says, “I can’t stop the storm, but I can steer my own boat.” 

Psychologists note internals handle stress better—lower cortisol, stronger resilience—because they focus on what’s in their grip, not what’s slipping away. 

For me, simple living makes that grip tighter. It strips away the clutter so I can zero in on what’s mine to manage—and it’s helped me nudge even further from external to internal over the years.

So, to answer that perennial question, “What can I do?”—here’s my list, with a few ways I’ve learned to build that internal locus of control:

• I can keep my kitchen clean. A tidy space is my way of saying “no” to chaos. Start small—wash one dish—and watch how it snowballs into a growing sense of control.
• I can stretch, exercise, and meditate in the morning. These aren’t just habits—they’re me taking charge of my body and mind. Pick something, do it daily, and feel the power progress.
• I can make my bed. It’s a quick win, a signal I’m not letting the mess win. Tiny victories like this train me to see I’m in the driver’s seat.
• I can hold Linda tight. Connection’s in my hands, and it keeps me grounded. Reach out to someone—it’s a choice that pulls you back from fate’s grip.
• I can think for myself. No one else gets to run my head—I decide what I take in. Question one thing you’ve accepted blindly; it’s a step to owning your mind.
• I can breathe. Simple, sure, but it’s my reset button, proof I’ve got power over my calm. Try deep breathes when stress hits—see it as your move, not the world’s.
• I can choose how I respond to outside stimuli. The world can scream, but I don’t have to scream back—I pick my reaction. Pause before reacting next time; it’s how I’ve rewired from feeling helpless to steady as she goes.
• I can see and appreciate the birds, the flowers, and the sun. Focusing on these joys keeps me present. Notice one thing daily—it shifts your lens from “out there” to “right here.”
• I can honor my priorities. Living by what matters to me, not the world’s noise, keeps me steady. Write down one priority and stick to it—it’s a stake in your own ground.

Just because the world is crazy doesn’t mean our lives have to mirror it. Simple living helps me here—having less to manage means fewer things pulling me off course. 

Studies back this up: people who feel in control, even in small ways, dodge the stress and burnout that hit when you think it’s all out of your hands. 

Linda and I have spent decades building a life that could shrug off something like the global covid panic—we were thankfully less affected than most. 

That wasn’t luck; it was us passing a test that we had been preparing for over a long time. And if we can shift from feeling tossed around to standing firm, anyone can—bit by bit.

I may not control much,
but I will attempt
to control what I can.
And that feels good,
and calm,
and right.

Where are you on the spectrum?