The Reformed Control Girl’s Guide to Not Stressing About Everything (Yes, It’s Possible)

For the past decade, my most consistent prayer has been simple yet profound: “God, give me more capacity.” More knowledge. More wisdom. More ability to carry the weight of all that’s placed before me. Because clearly, I wasn’t juggling enough already.

As someone who has always lived with a full plate, balancing countless responsibilities, serving as a listening ear for friends, being the go-to person in my family for execution and problem-solving, while simultaneously being a wife and mother navigating the beautiful complexities of marriage and parenthood, capacity has felt like my lifeline.

I’ve worn many hats, often simultaneously. I’m the one they call when something needs to get done. The one with ideas when others are stuck. The perpetual caregiver, always in “mom mode,” taking care of somebody, somewhere, somehow. This isn’t just who I am; it’s who I’ve had to become. And while I recognize this constant nurturing stems partly from my own experiences and perhaps trauma, it’s also become the rhythm of my existence, balancing, juggling, doing, always doing.

But here’s what I’ve discovered: God answered my prayers. He gave me capacity, immense capacity to do, to serve, to carry, to execute. Yet this blessing became complicated when I realized that my ability to handle so much meant others couldn’t recognize when I was overwhelmed. My strength became invisible armor that hid my exhaustion. People couldn’t see when I needed rest or was simply tired because I had become so proficient at managing it all that they basically thought I was some sort of superhuman multitasking machine.

The requests kept coming. The needs never ceased. And I kept responding because that’s what I do, it’s routine, automatic, expected. Plus, let’s be real, my control-girl tendencies made me believe that nobody else could do it quite like I could anyway. (Shocking revelation, I know.)

Recently, something shifted in my spirit. For the first time in years, I found myself praying differently. Instead of asking for more capacity, I began asking for peace. Real peace. Deep peace. Peace in every area of my life.

This prayer led me to make a decision that surprised even me: I stepped away from social media. Two months ago, I drew my circle closer, pulled myself inward, and chose to minimize my public presence, not to dim my light, but to let it shine more authentically.

Initially, I worried about missing out, about losing connections, about becoming forgotten. But God has shown me something beautiful: the people who truly need me, who genuinely care about me, find a way to reach me. They text. They call. They check in. Real relationships don’t require social media to survive, they require intention. Imagine that.

The world defines capacity as our maximum ability to contain, produce, or endure. It’s about doing more, being more, achieving more. But biblical capacity is different. It’s about stewardship rather than accumulation, faithfulness rather than performance, and wisdom rather than mere capability.

Scripture reminds us in Ecclesiastes 3:1 that “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” Even Jesus, in His earthly ministry, withdrew from crowds to rest and pray (Luke 5:16). He demonstrated that true capacity includes knowing when to step back, when to say no, and when to prioritize the Father’s voice over the crowd’s demands.

In Matthew 11:28-30, Jesus extends an invitation that speaks directly to the overwhelmed: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Now here’s where it gets really interesting, and honestly, a little shocking even to me. I’ve always been the self-appointed, card-carrying president of the Control Girl Club. You know the type: the one who needs everything planned, executed perfectly, and running exactly as envisioned. I’ve been the queen of stress, the duchess of worry, the empress of “let me just handle this myself because I know exactly how it should be done.”

But lately, I’ve been catching myself saying the most surprising words: “We’re not gonna stress about that.” “We’re not gonna allow that to stress us out.” “We’re not going to worry about those things.” No Stress. No Strain. No Struggle.

And y’all, I literally surprise myself when these words come out of my mouth! My friends and family are looking at me sideways like, “Who is this person and what did she do with our resident control freak?”

There’s something beautifully humbling about when God takes the reins from you, when He lovingly but firmly removes your death grip on the steering wheel and forces you into a passenger seat you never wanted to sit in. At first, it feels terrifying. But then something magical happens: you realize you’re actually experiencing that peace you’ve been praying for.

My loved ones are shocked by this transformation because they’re so used to me micromanaging everything and having very specific (okay, let’s be honest, extremely particular) ways I want things done. But you know what? I think my newfound “we’re not stressing about it” energy is actually helping all of us breathe a little easier.

In this season of intentional withdrawal and surrendered control, I’ve discovered something remarkable: my ability to pour into others has become more authentic and substantial. When you’re not performing on “front street,” when you’re not in the space of “pick me, see me, choose me,” your impact becomes more genuine. My pour is thicker now, richer, more meaningful. I’m helping people cast vision, write blueprints for their dreams, and navigate their challenges from a place of genuine rest rather than depletion, and without my usual need to control every detail of the outcome.

Listen, if you’re reading this and you recognize yourself in these words, if you’re stretched beyond recognition, teetering on the edge of burnout, feeling the weight of everyone else’s expectations while simultaneously trying to control every detail of how life unfolds, I want you to know that it’s okay to draw your circle closer. It’s not selfish to protect your peace. It’s not abandonment to step back and breathe. And honey, it’s definitely not a failure to let go of the illusion that you can control everything (I know, I know, this one stings a little).

Consider these truths:

• Your worth is not determined by your productivity

• Rest is not rebellion; it’s biblical (Psalm 127:2)

• Saying no to good things often means saying yes to God things

• Your mental health matters to God (1 Corinthians 6:19-20)

• Seasons change, and so can you

As we transition into fall, we enter nature’s season of harvest and preparation for rest. Trees don’t apologize for letting their leaves fall. They trust the process of release, knowing that this season of letting go prepares them for new growth. They’re really out here just dropping their responsibilities without asking anyone’s permission first. Revolutionary concept, honestly.

Perhaps this is your season to harvest the lessons from your years of carrying so much. Maybe it’s time to gather the wisdom you’ve gained, celebrate the strength you’ve developed, and prepare for a season of intentional rest and authentic connection.

Take time to enjoy your family without the pressure to document it. Appreciate the life you’ve built without feeling compelled to broadcast it. Find gratitude in the quiet moments, the unstaged interactions, the unfiltered conversations.

If you’re looking for me as the season begins to change from summer to fall, you won’t find me on social media, but you will find me on my porch in a rocking chair, reading “The Bait of Satan” or writing to you, with a blanket on my lap, the wind blowing across my face, and a nice cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows in my hand. Can’t you see it? Can’t you feel it? It’s peace.

God’s peace isn’t just the absence of chaos, it’s the presence of His order in our lives.

It’s knowing that we can trust Him with the things we release, the people we step back from, and the expectations we choose not to meet.

As I continue this journey from seeking capacity to embracing peace, I’m learning that true strength sometimes looks like stepping back. Real influence often happens away from the spotlight. And authentic living requires the courage to disappoint some people in order to honor the life God has given you to steward.

Your capacity was never meant to be limitless. Your peace, however, can be.

“And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” - Philippians 4:7