The Circle of Control

There are a lot of crazy things going on in the world right now, right?
This summer, flames engulfed towns we know so well, and many of us have friends directly affected by these reminders of nature’s might, fury and indiscretion. Dreams and memories disappear overnight, shattering the illusion of humanity’s command of this earth. Then floods appear from nowhere down the coast, carrying tents, cars and motorhomes into the ocean, destruction unfolding with the randomness and unbelievability of a toddler’s game or a B-grade disaster movie.

Global instability, environmental collapse, economic pressure — it can all feel relentless. Interest rates and cost-of-living pressures reduce everyday pleasures to guilty treats, and still the world keeps spinning.

A few years ago, I found myself paralysed by the abundance of soft plastics in our lives. A visceral terror would rise in me, stealing the oxygen from my lungs as I imagined their inevitable effects on the climate. I felt dread, helplessness, and a sense of being crushed beneath forces far beyond my reach.

So why paint such a vivid picture of distress?
I do it to offer perspective.

We live much of our lives inside an illusion of control. When that illusion cracks, we often rage against it and feel powerless in the process. My invitation at the moment is a simple one: notice what you can control.

Psychology offers a helpful framework here - the circle of control. It’s the smallest circle, right in the middle. This is the part of life where we are most firmly in charge: what to have for breakfast, whether to go for a walk, whether to call your mum, or binge that latest Netflix series deep into the night.

Surrounding that is the circle of influence. This is where we can nudge, but not command. It’s the daily frustration of trying to get kids’ shoes on before school while they’re doing handstands in the kitchen.

And finally, there’s the circle of concern. Climate change. Global politics. Economic uncertainty. This is the circle that feeds existential dread.

My suggestion isn’t to ignore this outer circle, it’s real, and it’s bloody concerning. Give it some airtime. Talk it through with a friend over coffee. Tell your dog how you feel on the morning walk. Write it down so it’s not building pressure inside a sealed container.

Then, gently return your attention to what you can control.

Move your body. Eat well enough. Spend time with people you love. Do something novel now and then to remind your nervous system that life is still unfolding.

What I’m saying is this: while the circle of concern will always exist, our wellbeing can live or die by how much time we choose to live in the circle of control.

Be kind to yourself. That, at least, is within your reach.