Letters Between Sundays

Am I in the driver seat or is God?

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding.” – Proverbs 3:5

Do you know the feeling of not having control? The panic sets in, the anxiety builds, and you start scrambling for another way to grab control back — sometimes in faster, more destructive ways. Whether it hurts you or others, it feels like the only way to regain authority over your own life.

I was diagnosed with OCD when I was five years old. My mother took me to a pediatric psychologist after noticing I sorted my toys rather than playing with them. I would line them up by color, shape, or type, and I did the same with my brother’s toys. By nine, I had Bratz and Monster High dolls. I never played pretend with them — I sorted their clothes and shoes, created outfits in a strict order, dressed them, and put them away.

As a teenager, my OCD shifted into food rituals. I would sort my food, or color-code the days of the week with certain meals. As I grew older, it became more repetitive behaviors: turning the door handle a certain number of times, flicking the lights on and off, or believing if I didn’t cover my mouth while sleeping, I would die in my sleep. The intrusive thoughts grew worse with age.

On the outside, people saw me as perfect: blonde hair, blue eyes, a 3.8 GPA, a university student, active in clubs and sports, running an online bakery, never in “trouble.” But inside, I was falling apart. OCD often looks like control — like everything has to be done a certain way or something bad will happen. But really, it’s anxiety disguised as control. What was I trying to control?

In many ways, my mother planned my life for me. I don’t hold anger toward her — I believe she thought she was doing what was best. But it often felt like someone else was doing the thinking, and I just had to act the part. I had to look, perform, and be perfect. And since I wasn’t perfect inside, I grasped at control through destructive habits — self-harm and disordered eating.

Self-harm doesn’t always mean cutting. It can look like sleeping too long, picking at your skin, biting your lips, neglecting food, avoiding showers, or mentally blocking yourself from healthy choices. All of it is a form of control — or at least the illusion of it.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. “Plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” – Jeremiah 29:11

I think most people struggle with control in some way. It’s human nature. But when I came into the church, I had to learn what it really meant to let go of control and surrender it to God. At first, it sounded crazy — and honestly, it still does some days. But I’ve seen the fruit of it.

Surrendering isn’t just about school or work. It’s about everything: how we think, how we act, how we see ourselves, our insecurities, relationships, money, time, even food. Some areas are harder than others. This year, giving my eating habits over to God was one of the most freeing things I’ve ever done. I also had to surrender school, jobs, living situations, friendships, and relationships. Only then did I realize how much I was trying to control on my own. And when I was in control, everything fell apart. But when I gave it to God, things worked out in ways I could never plan.

“We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps.” – Proverbs 16:9

Of course, I still wrestle with this daily. This past month, I felt myself slipping back. My roommate situation, not getting into the nursing program, my stalker resurfacing, being single, not having a clear plan for the future — I panicked. I started applying for new jobs even though I already had one, looking at other schools, making five-year plans, over-exercising, and letting old habits creep back in. I tried to take control instead of asking God what He wanted me to do with my time.

Eventually, I had to stop running and talk to Him. I confessed that I was spiraling. I felt guilty, like a bad disciple, and the enemy whispered that I didn’t belong here. But when I finally sat still, prayed, and listened, God reminded me of the truth: He is in control, not me. My role is to keep trusting Him, stay vulnerable with my sisters, and invite Him into every decision.

Now, instead of clinging to destructive habits, I focus on what I do have control over: how I treat myself, how I treat others, what I eat for breakfast, and what I wear for the day. The little choices. When I give God the big things, and focus on the small things within my reach, I feel peace.

I am His daughter, and He will always provide. He can’t work in my life unless I hand Him the tools.

“Commit everything you do to the Lord. Trust Him, and He will help you.” – Psalm 37:5