Licensed Clinical Social Worker and psychotherapist Steve Hauptman, author of Monkeytraps: Why We Try to Control Everything and How We Can Stop, has spent years analyzing this universal human drive. In examining the psychological mechanics of personal control, Hauptman frequently recalls a chance encounter with a speed-cuber—a young man capable of solving a standard Rubik’s Cube in a mere sixty seconds. While the young man was friendly and engaging, Hauptman admits feeling an instinctual aversion toward him, rooted entirely in what the speed-cuber represented on a symbolic level.
To Hauptman, the perfectly ordered cube highlighted a sharp contrast with the inherent messiness of daily human existence. Life rarely mirrors a toy that can be neatly solved through a calculated sequence of precise moves. Instead, for most people, human experience resembles an insoluble Rubik’s Cube: the harder one works to align every square on one side into a single, uniform color, the more chaotic and multicolored the remaining sides inevitably become.
This dynamic manifests daily in the overwhelming demands placed upon personal time, energy, and emotional bandwidth. Individuals constantly navigate competing priorities that resist simultaneous resolution. A clinician or professional may choose to dedicate hours to meeting with clients or addressing an accumulating list of household chores. A parent may spend meaningful time with family members or focus on writing a book. An individual may enjoy a social dinner with friends or strictly monitor personal dietary goals. Similarly, a professional may try to keep up with demanding industry literature or unwind with a light mystery novel to relax.
The core reality underlying these everyday dilemmas is that no individual possesses the capacity to accomplish everything at once. Life operates through an unending series of trade-offs. Yet, despite the logical reality of these limitations, many people continue attempting to force existence into alignment with their precise expectations. When reality resists—as it inevitably does—the world pushes back, creating an escalating cycle of frustration, anxiety, and stress.
This dynamic is far from a novel feature of contemporary living; it serves as the underlying thematic foundation for classic cautionary tales across literature and popular culture. Stories ranging from the mythological narrative of King Midas and Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol to modern science-fiction narratives like Jurassic Park illustrate the hazardous consequences of attempting to exert absolute mastery over external conditions. When human beings attempt to dictate terms to nature, fate, or other people, the outcome frequently subverts their original intentions.
In his clinical work and writing, Hauptman categorizes this drive as an "addiction to control." Rather than limiting the definition of control to domineering, bossy, or authoritarian behavior, he applies the term to a fundamental human impulse: the deep-seated urge to make reality cooperate. It represents the psychological desire to make people, complex situations, and unpredictable outcomes strictly conform to personal needs, desires, and expectations.
Through his examination of control mechanics, Hauptman identifies three distinct paradoxes that quietly operate beneath the surface of most efforts to manage reality. Understanding these paradoxes offers valuable insight into why relentless control tactics so often produce the opposite of their intended results.
The first paradox dictates that the greater a person’s psychological need for control becomes, the less in control that individual ultimately feels. Because absolute certainty over external events is impossible to maintain, a heightened need for order creates heightened vulnerability to unexpected disruptions, driving feelings of helplessness.
The second paradox involves interpersonal dynamics: the more forcefully an individual attempts to control other people, the more those people are driven to exert control in return. This creates an escalating power struggle that undermines trust, strains relationships, and fosters mutual resentment rather than cooperative harmony.
The third paradox—and the one most directly symbolized by the speed-cuber’s Rubik’s Cube—is that gaining control over one specific domain of life almost always requires surrendering control in another. Human energy and time are finite resources, meaning that hyper-focusing on a single priority inevitably leaves other critical areas neglected or scrambled.
Evidence of this third paradox appears across various life circumstances, often carrying heavy personal costs. Hauptman points to numerous familiar scenarios where a determined push to master one aspect of existence triggers an involuntary loss of stability elsewhere:
An individual struggling with intense emotional distress may turn to alcohol as a mechanism to manage and stabilize internal feelings. While the substance initially offers a sensation of mastery over difficult emotions, the individual gradually loses control over the dependency itself, resulting in a far more severe crisis.
A highly driven corporate executive may systematically conquer the professional realm, achieving immense financial success, high social status, and professional prestige. However, the immense investment of time and energy required to maintain that executive standing frequently results in severe emotional estrangement from a spouse, children, and extended family members.
A devoted mother may dedicate her entire focus and identity to the upbringing and daily management of her children. In prioritizing her parental role above all else, she may gradually become so disconnected from her marriage that she and her husband eventually exist as virtual strangers who barely communicate.
A person experiencing deep depression may invest extraordinary effort into concealing emotional pain from colleagues, friends, and loved ones. By attempting to maintain an external appearance of total composure, the individual expends vast reserves of psychological energy until, one morning, the sheer weight of suppressed emotion leaves them completely incapacitated and unable to get out of bed.
Despite witnessing the consistent operation of these paradoxes in both personal lives and clinical settings, many people struggle to internalize their lessons. The instinctual desire to possess options without experiencing their corresponding costs remains remarkably resilient. Individuals routinely expect to advance their careers while enjoying ample leisure, maintain perfect physical health while indulging in high-calorie foods, and nurture every relationship simultaneously without compromise.
For many years, Hauptman notes, he interpreted the disordered sides of his personal "cube"—the neglected chores, unfinished writing projects, or minor personal lapses—as concrete evidence of personal failure. If the living space was untidy, it felt like an indication of poor discipline. If writing was set aside, it seemed like wasted time. Conversely, if writing took priority, the neglected household tasks stood as silent accusations of failure.
Over time, a subtle but significant shift occurred in his perspective. Rather than viewing an unaligned or chaotic side of life as a personal shortcoming, he began recognizing it as an inevitable marker of choice. Every affirmative "yes" extended toward one commitment naturally carries a quiet "no" toward another. A highly productive day spent writing a book inherently means that domestic chores remain unaddressed. Conversely, a day dedicated to organizing the household means that creative or professional projects must wait.
Stated directly, the principle that every choice carries a cost appears self-evident. Yet, the human psyche contains a persistent, stubborn aspect that resists this basic reality. This stubborn element demands immediate gratification, expecting complete outcomes without accepting the necessary sacrifices required to achieve them. It is the part of human nature that wants to have its cake and eat it too, feeling angry or aggrieved whenever life demands a trade-off.
Acknowledging this psychological tendency does not eliminate the natural desire for perfect order. The impulse to see all sides of life’s complex puzzle click smoothly into place remains strong. However, developing psychological maturity involves recognizing that life is fundamentally distinct from a structured mechanical puzzle like a Rubik’s Cube. Life does not possess a fixed, single solution where every dimension can be simultaneously optimized and locked into place permanently.
This shift in understanding was tested in a concrete way during a routine medical examination involving Hauptman himself. During a standard physical, his physician conducted a routine electrocardiogram (ECG) and detected an abnormal reading suggestive of a potential transient ischemic attack (TIA), commonly referred to as a mini-stroke. Despite feeling completely fine, Hauptman was advised by his doctor to proceed immediately to a hospital emergency room for comprehensive evaluation.
Upon arrival at the medical facility, he was placed on a gurney and positioned in a busy hallway, where he remained for four full hours while hospital staff conducted necessary tests. The sudden hospitalization forced him to cancel six scheduled client sessions, reassure his anxious wife over the phone, and deal with the lingering worry over potential medical expenses—all while lying immobile in a crowded corridor waiting for updates.
In earlier years, such an abrupt disruption of plans and loss of autonomy would have triggered intense frustration, anxiety, and resentment over the loss of control. Yet, to his own surprise, Hauptman responded to the situation by closing his eyes and taking a peaceful, one-hour nap on the gurney.
The ability to rest quietly amidst medical uncertainty and schedule disruption highlighted a quiet transformation in managing the addiction to control. The stubborn, demanding part of the psyche had become increasingly willing to accept life’s unavoidable trade-offs without mounting an aggressive protest. Taking a restful nap in an emergency room hallway represented a practical application of Sylvia Boorstein’s perspective on enlightenment: recognizing that while the circumstance was far from desirable, it was the reality at hand, and thus acceptable.
Ultimately, recognizing that one cannot accomplish everything at once releases individuals from the unrealistic expectation of absolute control. Life’s scrambled sides are not marks of inadequacy or personal failure, but rather the natural footprint of deliberate human choices. By surrendering the demand to solve life like a Rubik’s Cube, individuals can make peace with the unavoidable compromises that define human existence, finding composure even when circumstances depart from the ideal script.
