What Vertigo Taught Me About Control

Last week, my whole world started spinning.

Literally.

As I rolled over in bed one morning, vertigo hit hard. My first instinct? Grip the sheets. Squeeze my eyes shut. Force my body into stillness.

The spinning got worse.

That's when I realized: I wasn't just fighting the vertigo. I've been white-knuckling my entire life.

If you've ever felt stuck AND restless at the same time - like you need to do something but don't know what, like you're holding on so tight but nothing's working - this is for you.

The Problem with White-Knuckling

Here's what I know from working with women who feel stuck and restless: we think the solution is to try harder, control more, figure it out faster.

But what if trying to control everything is actually what's keeping us stuck?

The Self-Coaching Model teaches us that our thoughts create our feelings. My thought about the vertigo? "This is dangerous. I can't handle this. Make it stop."

That thought created panic. The panic made the spinning worse. The worse spinning reinforced the thought.

White-knuckling creates a feedback loop that keeps us stuck.

What Your Body Already Knows

Eugene Gendlin, author of Focusing, taught me something that changed my entire approach: the body IS the unconscious.

Your body already knows what you need. It's holding the wisdom you're trying to think your way to. But when we're constantly fighting our sensations - trying to positive-think them away, shame them into submission, or force them to stop - we interrupt that natural knowing.

So instead of fighting the vertigo, I tried something radical: I let myself feel it. I breathed into the sensation. I used EFT and bilateral stimulation not to make it stop, but to create enough safety that I could actually be with what was happening.

And it started to shift.

Not because I controlled it. But because I stopped fighting it.

The Practice: Three Small Shifts

Here's what I'm learning about how we actually change:

1. Stop Fighting → Start Listening

When you notice yourself white-knuckling something - a decision, a relationship, a feeling you don't want to have - pause.

Put your hand on your body wherever you feel the tension and ask: "What does this part of me need me to know?"

Don't rush to fix it. Just listen. The wisdom is already there - you're not searching for answers, you're noticing what's already present.

2. Stop Carrying It Alone → Ask for Help

After the vertigo, I couldn't drive safely to my mom's house. My body knew it, even though my mind wanted to push through.

So I asked my sister to go out of her way to pick me up. It wasn't a small ask. And here's what surprised me: I wasn't drowning in shame about it.

Because I'd already listened to my body. I'd already tried. Asking for help wasn't a failure - it was me continuing to trust what I knew.

You don't have to be at your worst to ask for help. You don't have to earn it. If your body is saying "I need support," that's enough.

3. Stop Trying to Control Everything → Trust What's Actually Yours

There have been heavy things this month - losses in my community, violence, grief that feels both collective and personal.

My old pattern would've been to pray for it all to stop. To use prayer as a spiritual bypass - asking God to take the hard feelings away.

But this time, I prayed differently: "Help me be with this. Help me be with these uncomfortable feelings I'm feeling."

I focused on my tiny circle of control: my thoughts, my feelings, my actions. Everything else? I released with faith.

And I felt peace. Not because everything was okay, but because I stopped carrying what wasn't mine to carry.

The Bottom Line

You don't need fixing. You need listening.

Your body already knows what you need. Your nervous system wants to calm down - but only when you stop fighting it. The changes come more easily when you create space to listen, ask for support, and release what isn't yours.

Three questions to ask yourself:

1. What am I white-knuckling right now?
2. What does my body need me to know?
3. What am I trying to control that isn't actually mine to carry?

It's a daily practice. Sometimes minute-to-minute.

But it works. Small steps. Big shifts.