The Hidden Costs of Control

Last week, I left you with this:

On the surface, control looks like a virtue. But over time, it erodes the very freedom and fulfillment you thought you were protecting.

This week, let’s go deeper. Because the costs of control don’t usually show up in your spreadsheets. They show up in your energy, your relationships, and your sense of self.

And if you’re anything like me, you don’t notice them at first. You just double down on what’s always worked: work harder, schedule tighter, balance one excess with another excess. You tell yourself you’re fine. On paper, you are. But slowly, quietly, you’re not.

Here’s where the costs of control really show up:

1. Emotional Cost — The Quiet Burnout

When I was in it, I didn’t call it burnout. Everything was technically fine. I looked fine. I was running 50-mile ultramarathons, after all. Training harder than most people I knew. That was my proof.

But here’s the thing: I was using those races the same way I used work, food, alcohol — as offsets. Run farther so I could eat or drink whatever I wanted. Work more so I could keep up appearances. Schedule more so I didn’t have to face the silence.

I was eking out a 2x existence. Putting in more, only to get marginally more out. Not for months, but for years — three, six, maybe even ten.

On the outside, I was productive. On the inside, I was exhausted. The fire was gone, even if the machine still ran.

And I see it in others now. But you can’t just point it out. Functional, “fine” people don’t like being told they’re not fine — even when they secretly feel it themselves. So they double down, just like I did. Until they can’t anymore.

2. Relational Cost — Disconnection Disguised as Leadership

This one was harder for me to see. The emotional cost? Obvious in hindsight. The financial cost? I can put numbers to it. But the relational cost? That one slipped under the radar.

Because I told myself I was delegating. At home and at work, I thought I was giving people responsibility. In reality, I was only delegating if what came back looked like my version of order.

At home, that meant my definition of a “clean room” or how a family road trip should run. I wanted to leave at a certain time, make or skip stops based on efficiency, treat the drive like a vector between two places. My wife and kids didn’t see it that way. For them, the trip wasn’t just a transfer of bodies from Point A to Point B — it was part of the experience. Once I began to understand their rhythms, their version of order, I realized how often my grip was stifling the joy out of what could have been shared.

Same thing at work. I thought I was empowering my team. But really, I was just waiting for them to hand back something that looked like my process, my system, my way. And when it didn’t, I quietly stepped back in. That’s not delegation. That’s disguised control.

And the truth is, relationships don’t thrive under control. Not at home. Not at work. Not even with clients. They may comply. They may nod along. But compliance isn’t the same as connection.

Over time, I learned what we now practice at Members’ Wealth: there is no single right way. Not for portfolios. Not for processes. Not even for family road trips. What matters isn’t rigid control, but shared ownership — giving people space to invest themselves, to bring their version of excellence to the table.

Because if everyone doesn’t have some skin in the game, it’s not really a relationship. It’s just management. And management erodes trust over time.

3. Financial Cost — Missed Growth

Here’s one that still stings: I lost years — and probably millions — to control.

I thought I was being smart by diversifying my focus. I was managing four different assets at once: real estate, a job, a small business, and an investment portfolio. On the surface, it looked like strength. In reality, it was fear.

Fear of losing one thing if I committed fully to another. Fear of choosing wrong. Fear of letting go of the W-2 income, even though my gut knew I needed to.

And the cost? Five to ten years of momentum. Five to ten million in potential growth. Hard to measure exactly, but real enough.

I see this with clients, too. Afraid to risk $500k to gain $5 million. Afraid to launch the business that would light them up. Afraid to step into the next role because the current one is “safe.”

What they don’t realize — and what took me too long to see — is that the next level often requires less work, not more. Because when you align with your passion and strengths, you stop grinding and start flowing.

4. Energetic Cost — No Room to Breathe

Control requires constant vigilance. You’re always on. You never truly shut off. And eventually, even the things you love start to feel heavy.

For me, it showed up everywhere: work that once energized me felt like a treadmill. Training that used to bring joy felt like punishment. Even time with family was filtered through the lens of productivity — another thing to manage, another task to fit in.

And here’s the deeper problem: how you do anything is how you do everything. If you allow one energy-zapping thing to stay in your life, you create a habit of tolerating things that drain you. Before long, you normalize exhaustion and busyness.

Control steals the margin you need for joy, creativity, and presence. It convinces you that busyness is aliveness. But they’re not the same thing.

Reframe: Control Is a Signal

Here’s the part I want you to take away: control isn’t evil. It’s a signal.

It means you care. It means you’ve built something worth protecting. But it also means you’ve outgrown the system you’re clinging to.

Control says: “Something here matters deeply. But I don’t trust enough to let go.”

The question isn’t whether control is bad. It’s whether you’ll treat it as a warning light or an invitation. Because once you stop gripping, you finally have open hands to build with ownership.

Next Week: From Control to Ownership

Because the opposite of control isn’t chaos. It’s ownership.

Ownership is where freedom begins. Where you stop gripping everything so tightly and finally start building something that can stand — and grow — without you.

That’s where we’ll go next.

• Where in your life are you mistaking control for ownership?

• Which of these costs — emotional, relational, financial, or energetic — resonates most with you right now?

If this resonates, maybe it’s time for your own turning point. Let’s explore it together — Connect with me.