Control Freak

So much has happened in my life these past 30 days, I feel like a completely different person. I am more authentically myself in a quiet, confident way. In an accepting way. In a way where I don't need control and I don't try to exert control. Living with Drew will do that to you… if you let it.

This week’s issue has some real lessons that have impacted me profoundly. You may not feel it is super relevant to property management, so I’ll understand if you unsubscribe and I won’t try to control against that outcome ;)

The Crisis

One month ago, I dropped everything and flew to Idaho to pick up my son from college. He had just been placed on academic probation. To say he was scared and confused would be an understatement. For a neurodivergent person, the rules of life don't reveal themselves as clearly or quickly as they do for others.

Drew was on his fourth apartment in less than 90 days, repeatedly forced out for rule violations. One week before finals, a dean informed me that Drew had slammed his electric scooter into his apartment elevator door over 100 times when it didn't open. That same day, a security guard was posted outside his business class to ensure he wouldn't enter.

Drew has never been physically violent with another person. The few days before I arrived, he sat in his apartment too afraid to do or say anything that might get him in more trouble. It was heartbreaking to witness as a parent.

So anxious to escape his situation, Drew found a ride from Rexburg to Idaho Falls where he waited for hours in a hotel lobby until I arrived that night. I walked in to find him lying on a bench in the breakfast area, headphones on, hoodie pulled tight over his head, surrounded by disheveled boxes, suitcases, and an electric scooter. We loaded everything into the rental car, spent the night, and set out the next morning for Logan, Utah.

Why Logan? I wanted a small town with a student population and accessible mental health care. I needed somewhere we could stay for a few weeks and where Drew might be able to live for a few years, if it proved to be the right fit.

Drew wasn't going home. There had been too much turmoil with him living there: the constant struggle for independence his behavior showed he wasn't ready for, and the disrespect for rules that so often accompanies that struggle. Drew was seeking companionship with people who were using him. He didn't see it, but we did. Some of his friends were dangerous; a gun was pulled on his buddy one late night in downtown Tempe last November.

Also, he. is. just. intense. He can be draining, and that's coming from an ultra runner...

The Transformation

The next 3½ weeks with Drew felt like a mini lifetime. Time slowed way down, each day prolonged by new surroundings, new experiences, plenty of learning, and some boundary testing. The unexpected part? Drew unwittingly changed my life. Completely.

When Force Fails

For 19 years, Drew's mother and I invested exhaustively in therapies, interventions, advocates, programs, tools, and knowledge—all to help "fix" Drew. We demanded full inclusion in neurotypical classes. We raised him believing nothing was "wrong" with him. We exerted influence and control (and maybe even force?) to give him every support and advantage in life.

Trying to fashion Drew into a typical college student at an ultra-rigid conservative church school nearly broke him. Once again, we had hoped he would "rise" to the environment provided, but he didn't.

In a basement apartment in North Logan, I tried to wipe the slate clean: no expectations, no forced outcomes, and no pressure. What Drew wanted more than anything was to be back home with family and friends. All he knew was that he needed to somehow earn the opportunity to live at home again.

Lesson 1: Keep Moving

Good therapists aren't easy to book on short notice. The quickest appointment I could schedule was five days out. But Drew wasn't going to accept that pace. For all his deficienies, his intense drive makes up for them and then some.

"Let's go, Dad. Get in the car. I'm not waiting until Thursday—we're going to get some therapy right now. I’m not here for you to waste my time." I smiled inside. The irony…

I knew arguing with Drew would be futile. I had to drive around and show him you can't just walk into therapy.

As I started driving, my brain recalled an image of a window sticker I'd seen the night before near the gym I'd found for Drew: "Family Counseling." I drove there first.

I felt somewhat awkward walking in. "Hi, my son and I are looking for an appointment with a family therapist. Do you have anyone available today to meet with us?"

The young receptionist disappeared for a moment, then returned with, "If you'll have a seat, Alan can meet with you in about ten minutes."

I looked at Drew. He nodded as if to say, "See?" This small miracle taught me the first life-changing lesson.

When we are in motion, God can direct our path. Drew had more faith and expectancy at 19 than I did at 47, and it landed us in front of one of the wisest, most caring, experienced therapists on the planet. Alan wasn't just a great therapist; he was exceptionally good for Drew.

Keep moving.

Lesson 2: Hold Bird with Open Hand

Drew liked meeting with Alan. Alan is non-judgmental, empathetic, pragmatic, and a master teacher. We met with him for 90 minutes that first day and returned almost daily for the next two weeks. Alan felt we had been directed to him by God, and I know he's right about that. He made time for us.

As I sat listening, observing, and interacting with Drew through those therapy sessions and in the small daily routines we began weaving into our days, I started to change in unexpected ways.

I once heard that when Yoko Ono was asked by a reporter how she kept John Lennon, she replied, "I didn't keep John. I let him go."

What I began to see in Drew was a young man struggling in many ways but desperately wanting to find his own path in life. "Let me fail," he seemed to be silently screaming behind his intense and confused furrowed brow.

I watched for hours as the patient sage Alan did only the work Drew was ready and willing to do. Hands open. No force, no coercion, no tricks.

Stop trying to control outcomes.

The Test

When Drew and I first arrived in Logan, he brought up that I had never taken him on his high school graduation trip. Drew decided he wanted to go on a Disney Cruise (which gives you a glimpse into his sweet, childlike nature). I couldn't resist—we booked it for 2½ weeks out.

The cruise was amazing (with some business lessons for sure, a topic for another newsletter). But I felt we weren't quite done with our work, and I worried that flying back home too soon would cause Drew to slide back into old patterns, losing our progress.

Drew found out at the last minute that we were flying back to Utah, not Arizona, and he snapped. He stormed off in a busy airport and bought his own plane ticket home to Arizona. I also snapped. I drained his bank account, shut off his cell phone, and got myself on his same flight.

Eight hours later, my father dropped us both off at a guest house we own. Drew bolted immediately on foot. Without a functioning cell phone and in an erratic state, I was concerned. I followed him. He ran, swore, screamed, and yelled at me. I silently prayed. Thoughts about calling the police crossed my mind. I resisted. Then the second miracle happened.

The 2nd Miracle

I continued following Drew on foot, at a distance. Somehow, he eventually made his way to his grandparents' home 2½ miles away. I never had control and now he was out of my influence. I didn't know if my in-laws would support what I was trying to accomplish with Drew.

The next morning, back at the guest house, Drew showed up around 10 AM, and we had a 90-minute conversation that absolutely shocked me.

He proceeded to thoughtfully explain why he had reacted the way he did the previous day, apologized for the mean things he had yelled at me, and accepted the opportunity to live at the guest house while demonstrating more responsible behavior over seven weeks to earn the privilege of moving back home.

What?

He even agreed to random drug testing (for some nicotine and marijuana struggles he'd been having) and committed to a social media fast for 30 days. Wow.

My New Theory About Life

Growing up, I believed, "If it is to be, it's up to me!" I started reading Tony Robbins' Unlimited Power in 5th grade, convinced I could will anything into existence if I wanted it badly enough.

Drew helped me break that paradigm for the better during a month that felt like a lifetime. I now know more than ever that I control almost nothing in this world. The best I can do is take full responsibility for myself, show up with a good attitude, and say "no" (and really mean it) to things that aren't healthy.

I will be forever grateful for this journey. A journey that began with the decision that one person, however struggling, is more important than "the many." A journey that taught me that every effort of control should be applied to my character and my attitude. And that miracles are possible when we approach life with a willingness to be useful, with both hands open.

Logan, Utah, is now special to me for two reasons:

1. It's where my parents met, fell in love, married, graduated, and where I was born 47 years ago.

2. It's where my son helped me learn how to better live the rest of my life.

Perhaps we all struggle in some ways with fears that drive us to try to control. The paradox is our exertion of control of others diminishes our influence.