A friend of mine was diagnosed with a debilitating disease. But the diagnosis wasn’t where the story began. Before the diagnosis, this person was enthusiastic, hard-working, and extraordinarily productive. This was someone who was accustomed to getting things done. If there was a problem, the person attacked it. If something needed to be organized, it got organized. If somebody needed help, the person helped. There was very little in life that seemed beyond reach.
Then, gradually, something changed. The person began to slow down. Things that had once been easy became more difficult. The energy and ability to get things done weren’t what they had been, and nobody quite understood why. It wasn’t an immediate collapse. It was a gradual loss of capacity, followed eventually by a medical diagnosis that explained what was happening. Then came the anger and withdrawal.
I could understand why. It wasn’t simply the disease that was frustrating. It was the loss of control. This was a person who had spent a lifetime being capable, productive, and able to handle whatever came along. Suddenly, the things that had always seemed manageable weren’t manageable anymore. One day I asked, “Help me understand what you’re feeling right now?”
The response stopped me. “I used to be able to control everything. There was very little in my life that I couldn’t handle. Now I’m sick. I refuse to let this disease define me, so I’m frustrated that I can do so little.”
I understood what my friend was saying. This wasn’t about giving up. It was about losing the ability to do what had always come naturally: take control of a situation and make something happen. So I told my friend what I tell my clients and students: “If you cannot control all of the Universe, find that piece of the Universe you can control.”
I’ve thought about that conversation many times since then because the principle applies to far more than illness. It applies to leadership, organizations, careers, relationships, difficult bosses, changing circumstances, and those periods in life when the world seems to have stopped cooperating with our plans. The problem is that we often spend an enormous amount of energy trying to control things that were never ours to control in the first place.
We cannot control what another person thinks. We cannot control whether someone likes us. We cannot control what our boss decides. We cannot control whether an employee chooses to do what we asked. We cannot control the economy, the weather, organizational politics, someone else’s behavior, the past, or, eventually, many of the circumstances that life puts in front of us. That doesn’t mean we are powerless. It means we have to become more precise about where our power actually resides.
I often think of three circles: control, influence, and concern. What I can control is my territory. What I can influence is territory I can affect but cannot command. Everything else belongs in the circle of concern. The mistake is spending most of our time in the third circle while neglecting the first.
I’ve also learned from years of working with people that the continuing frustration of trying to control what cannot be controlled is a significant driver of burnout, both at work and in our private lives. I’ve watched people wear themselves down fighting the same battles over and over again, not because they are lazy or incapable, but because they keep trying to make something happen that is fundamentally outside their authority or ability to change. They become angry, disappointed, resentful, and exhausted, and then they go home carrying all of that frustration with them. The next day they start the same fight again. Over time, that cycle can consume an enormous amount of energy.
Think about the employee who has a difficult supervisor. The employee may spend hours wondering why the supervisor behaves the way he does, complaining about decisions, replaying conversations, and hoping the supervisor will finally become a better manager. Perhaps the supervisor will, but the employee doesn’t control that. What the employee can control is preparation, professionalism, communication, boundaries, effort, learning, relationships, and the decision about what to do next. That may not solve the supervisor’s shortcomings, but it gives the employee back a piece of the Universe.
The same thing happens in organizations. A leader can spend months complaining about the budget, the board, elected officials, headquarters, the economy or the people who came before. Some of those complaints may be entirely justified, but justification doesn’t create control. At some point the better question becomes, “Given the circumstances I have, what can I actually do?” That question changes the conversation because it moves us from frustration to possibility.
It doesn’t require us to pretend that circumstances are fair. It doesn’t require positive thinking or some simplistic belief that everything happens for a reason. Sometimes circumstances are terrible. Sometimes they are unfair. Sometimes something important has genuinely been taken away from us. But even then, there may be a piece of the Universe that remains ours. Maybe it is the next decision, how we spend the next hour, what we learn, the conversation we choose to have, asking for help, deciding what we will no longer tolerate, or simply getting out of bed and doing one thing that matters. That may sound small compared with the problem, but control doesn’t have to be enormous to be meaningful.
My friend was right about one thing: refusing to let the disease define a person is an act of control. The disease may have changed what my friend can do, but it does not automatically get to decide who my friend is, what my friend values, how my friend treats other people or what my friend chooses to do with whatever capacity remains. That is an important distinction. Our circumstances can change the size of our territory without eliminating our territory.
I’ve seen this with clients who are dealing with organizational problems they cannot fix. I’ve seen it with people whose careers have taken unexpected turns. I’ve seen it with leaders who inherit circumstances they didn’t create. And I’ve seen it in my own life. There are times when I have wanted to fix something and couldn’t. There are times when I have wanted someone else to make a different decision. There are times when I have believed that if I just worked harder, explained it better, or pushed a little more, I could make the situation come out the way I wanted. Sometimes I couldn’t.
That’s when the question becomes useful: “What is mine to control?” Not the whole problem, not the whole organization, not the other person, and not the Universe. Just my piece of it. That is not surrender. It is strategic thinking.
The Guidant Path is built around the idea of finding the path ahead. Sometimes the path is obvious. Sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes we have to stop, look around, and figure out where we are before we can decide where to go. And sometimes the terrain has changed. When that happens, we can stand there wishing the terrain were different, or we can look for the next piece of ground we can actually move.
If you cannot control all of the Universe, find that piece of the Universe you can control. Then start there.
Please consider learning more about this topic in my book, “The Guidant Path – Adults.“
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Author’s Note: The content provided in this article is designed exclusively for educational and informational purposes, reflecting opinions shaped by decades of leadership training and organizational consulting experience. It should never be interpreted as formal professional advice. By reading or engaging with this material, you acknowledge that no professional-client relationship is established and that these insights do not substitute for tailored guidance from a qualified professional familiar with your specific circumstances. Consequently, readers are strongly advised to seek independent counsel from licensed legal, financial, medical, or other appropriate advisors before implementing any strategies or making decisions based on these perspectives. Ultimately, you assume full personal responsibility for any actions you choose to take or omit as a result of reading this material, releasing the author and publisher from any liability for outcomes arising from your reliance on the text.
