Surrender, Dorothy ...

A friend of mine recently asked me who the boss of my relationship is. I immediately, without hesitation, answered, "Me."

I should have followed that up with a qualification: I don't want it to be me, but it is.

At one point in "The Wizard of Oz," the Wicked Witch of the West writes "Surrender Dorothy" across the sky while on broomstick and terrifies the denizens of Emerald City (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Surrender_Dorothy). That phrase has been reversed to read "Dorothy's Surrender," too, and for me these are both wildly loaded phrases. (Had the WWW written "Dorothy's Surrender" across the sky instead, it would have made for a more adult movie, both in tone and plot!)

My name isn't Dorothy, but if someone ordered me to surrender by writing it in the sky, I would not only comply immediately, I might swoon at the prospect.

The concept of surrending in and of itself is a compelling one, especially for someone like me who is often assumed to be the leader of various groups because I don't wait to be asked questions, I don't watch silently when something is wrong, I don't sit on my hands when something needs to be started. I am a defacto leader in many ways; it falls to me to motivate, to organize, to cull.

For me, surrendering is potently attractive because it means giving control to someone else, and that's a rare thing for me. I tell myself I have few qualms about giving up that control, but I infrequently find anyone (1) willing, or (2) competent. Because let's face it: being in control requires responsibility. Most folks don't want the kind of responsibility that comes from being in control of an outcome. It is hard work and frequently a thankless job. And while I've become accustomed to control, while I have learned to accept it and even want it, mostly I wish I didn't have it.

Control (when it's not brutally enforced) is all about trust: others trusting the one in control, the one in control trusting the others will follow. I frequently wonder if my tendency to have/own control is diametrically proportionate to my inability to fully trust.

As my internal compass has spun more and more off of magnetic north lately, I find this desire to relinquish control -- to surrender -- is more need than want now. And the irony? That which caused my my compass to spin off bearing --my focus moving from Care of Other to Care of Me -- means the list of usual suspects to whom I could hand over control to has shrunk to zero.

Maybe I should post an ad ... WANTED: Someone to whom I can surrender.