That quiet statement of radical acceptance stands in sharp contrast to the way most people navigate their daily lives. For psychotherapist Steve Hauptman, LCSW, an expert on the psychological dynamics of control and the author of Monkeytraps: Why We Try to Control Everything and How We Can Stop, the human impulse to organize, manipulate, and master every facet of existence is a near-universal struggle. Hauptman frames this continuous friction not merely as a personality trait, but as a widespread addiction to control—a persistent attempt to force an unpredictable reality to align with personal expectations.
The tension inherent in this struggle is vividly captured by a metaphor Hauptman frequently uses: the Rubik’s Cube. Recalling an encounter with a competitive speed-cuber—a young man capable of systematically solving the complex puzzle in under sixty seconds—Hauptman admits to feeling an immediate, symbolic resentment. The frustration was not directed at the young man himself, but rather at what he represented. For most people, life feels far more like an unsolvable puzzle than a neat exercise in logic. The harder one works to align every tile on one face of the cube to be a uniform color, the more chaotic and multicolored the remaining sides inevitably become.
This perpetual imbalance manifests in the endless series of trade-offs that define adult life. A person can choose to devote their energy to seeing clients or managing household chores. They can prioritize quality time with family or lock themselves away to work on a book. They can commit to social gatherings over dinner or maintain a strict regimen to monitor their weight. They can stay current with demanding professional reading or unwind with a light mystery novel. What remains fundamentally impossible, Hauptman notes, is doing everything simultaneously. Every conscious decision to lean into one area of life automatically requires pulling back from another. Human beings are, by necessity, making constant trade-offs throughout the day.
This dynamic extends far beyond individual daily routines; it governs broader systemic realities as well. History and literature are rich with cautionary tales exploring the unintended consequences of forcing reality to conform to human desires. From ancient myths like King Midas demanding that everything he touches turn to gold, to Ebenezer Scrooge prioritizing financial control over human connection, to modern sci-fi narratives like Jurassic Park illustrating the failure of extreme environmental mastery, the lesson remains unchanged: the more aggressively humans attempt to force life into rigid expectations, the more forcefully life tends to push back.
In his clinical practice and writing, Hauptman categorizes this behavior under the umbrella of control addiction. He clarifies that being addicted to control does not necessarily mean a person is overtly bossy, aggressive, or domineering. Rather, control in this context refers to a deep-seated human compulsion to make reality cooperate—to insist that people, external circumstances, and ultimate outcomes conform neatly to individual needs, desires, and rigid timelines.
Through years of clinical observation and personal reflection, Hauptman has identified three central paradoxes that govern human attempts to maintain control over their lives and environments.
The first paradox dictates that the greater an individual’s psychological need for control, the less in control they actually feel. Because absolute control over external events is impossible, an elevated need for certainty creates a heightened vulnerability to anxiety whenever reality inevitably deviates from the script.
The second paradox involves interpersonal relationships: the harder a person tries to control those around them, the more they compel others to exert control in return. This creates a defensive, reactive cycle where both parties become locked in a contest for dominance or self-protection, diminishing freedom for everyone involved.
The third paradox—and the one that directly connects to the metaphor of the Rubik’s Cube—is that in order to gain control in one domain of life, a person must inevitably relinquish control in another.
Hauptman observes that this third paradox is constantly playing out across society, often with devastating consequences when people refuse to acknowledge it. He points to numerous common scenarios where an aggressive attempt to control one aspect of life triggers an unexpected and chaotic loss of control elsewhere.
Consider the individual who relies on alcohol to manage intense emotional discomfort or social anxiety, only to gradually lose control over their drinking entirely. Or consider the high-powered corporate executive who achieves extraordinary status, financial stability, and professional control, yet ultimately finds himself completely estranged from his spouse, children, and extended family.
Similarly, a devoted mother may focus her entire identity and sense of purpose on the lives of her children, only to wake up years later to discover that her primary focus has driven a profound emotional wedge between herself and her husband, leaving them living essentially separate lives. In another instance, a man struggling with depression may expend vast amounts of energy successfully concealing his emotional pain from colleagues and loved ones, only to eventually find himself so utterly exhausted by the effort that he cannot physically bring himself to get out of bed.
Despite observing this third paradox repeatedly in both clinical settings and everyday life, Hauptman notes how difficult it is for individuals to internalize the lesson. The fundamental human urge remains stubborn: people want to accomplish the professional project and spend unrestricted time with family; they want to build financial wealth and take ample time off to rest; they want to enjoy heavy, satisfying meals and watch the numbers on the bathroom scale steadily drop.
The critical turning point in psychological growth comes from changing how one interprets the "scrambled" side of the cube. Historically, many individuals view an unfinished task, an untidy home, or an unreached goal as definitive proof of personal inadequacy or failure. If the house remains messy, the immediate self-judgment dictates that one should have worked harder to clean it. If writing or creative work is neglected, one feels guilty for wasting time. Conversely, if hours are spent writing, guilt arises over neglecting domestic duties or professional networking. Every unselected option stands as an accusation.
A healthier psychological framework involves reframing the scrambled side of the cube not as a failure, but as an explicit reminder of a conscious choice. Tucked inside every emphatic "yes" to one priority is an unavoidable "no" to another. A highly productive day dedicated to focused writing naturally means that household chores remain unfinished. A day devoted entirely to family obligations or home maintenance means that creative projects are temporarily set aside. Every decision carries an inherent opportunity cost.
While this realization appears obvious when stated clearly, human nature continually resists it. There exists a stubborn, self-centered, or addictive layer within the human psyche that simply demands what it wants without compromise. It seeks outcomes without trade-offs, desiring choices that carry no cost and insisting on having its cake and eating it too.
Learning to loosen the grip of this internal demand is a gradual, ongoing process. Hauptman illustrates this shift through a poignant personal experience during a routine medical checkup. During the physical, his physician ran an electrocardiogram (ECG) and detected an abnormality suggesting a potential transient ischemic attack (TIA), commonly referred to as a mini-stroke. Despite feeling completely fine physically, Hauptman was advised to head immediately to the hospital emergency room for evaluation.
Upon arriving at the hospital, he was placed on a gurney and stationed in a busy hallway, where he remained for four hours while medical staff conducted tests. The sudden medical detour forced him to immediately cancel six client appointments, comfort his alarmed wife over the phone, worry about potential medical costs, and confront total uncertainty while lying helpless in a hospital corridor.
In earlier years, such an invasive disruption to his schedule and sense of safety would have triggered intense frustration, anxiety, and a desperate struggle to regain control over his day. Instead, Hauptman experienced an unexpected shift in perspective. Recognizing that the situation was entirely beyond his control, he chose to close his eyes and ended up taking a peaceful, one-hour nap directly on the gurney.
That simple, surprising moment reflected a deeper psychological transformation: a willingness to accept trade-offs without resentment or protest. It demonstrated a shift away from measuring personal worth by the ability to keep every side of life perfectly ordered.
Ultimately, life is not a puzzle to be solved or a Rubik’s Cube to be perfectly aligned across all six faces. By relinquishing the illusion of total control and accepting the natural trade-offs inherent in everyday choices, individuals can move away from perpetual frustration and begin to cultivate a far more resilient form of peace.
