What You Can Control (and What You Have to Let Go)

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The Easter bunny hopped in, hopped out, and left both hosts with repair bills. Vonda's pool needed a new pump and salt system after ten years; Lori's built-in hot tub is out of commission because the squirrels in The Woodlands keep gnawing into the heater — buy a new one and they'll just eat it again. "In our world, squirrels are in control of the back of our yard," she laughs. It's the perfect on-ramp to this week's topic: the constant tension every business owner lives with between what you can control and what you simply have to release.

The slow-season version of losing control

The day before recording, a Flower Clique member texted Lori: "Do you have a minute? I need therapy." Her story isn't unusual right now — shops feeling scarily slow, proms not here yet, light on sympathy work, no weddings on the books. That slow feeling is fundamentally a lack-of-control feeling. Vonda's framing: your happiness is roughly 90% how you react, and only about 10% is what you actually control — so pour your energy into the 10%. You can't control the economy or how many customers walk in today. You can control how much social media you're putting out, what emails you're sending, what marketing you're running (the free That Flower Feeling assets from the recent episode with Vanessa are sitting right there). Lori and her member brainstormed further out of the box: her shop rents a big, cool building in a walkable area, so what about cohabitating with a complementary small business — a little bookstore, a coffee counter — to share rent and pull more traffic through the door? Light bulbs went off, and so did fear, because ideas like that require relinquishing some control. That's the hard part for owners: we own businesses precisely because we like being in control of everything.

You can't control how people feel about your decisions

Vonda's biggest classroom for this lesson has been two and a half years as AIFD symposium coordinator. Working with Randy under bylaws and policies, she's learned you cannot control other people's emotions or how they respond — someone will be unhappy, and for a people-pleaser, that hurts your heart. Lori, watching from her volunteer seat on the sidelines, sees the same thing in flower shop owners dealing with an employee or a customer: leaders are told to "take the emotion out of it," which is impossible unless you're inhumane. The article she'd been reading that morning put it more honestly — after a hard call, you're going to feel terrible, and it's okay to sit in that for a minute. It's part of managing. It's the sucky part of what we signed up for; nobody warns you about the heartbreak when you take the position.

Five practices for finding peace with the rest

The back half of the episode works through what people who are at peace with their lack of control actually do.

They take time alone. Solitude, not loneliness — and it counts even if it's a solo run to Target or Marshall's, or walking the dog with no AirPods, saying hello to people eye to eye. Lori never lived alone in her life until virtual work trained her to enjoy her own company, in short spurts.

They don't get worked up over trivial matters. Lori's theory: the more hardships you've been through, the less gets under your skin — though everybody's definition of hardship is their own. Her childhood neighbor Mrs. Maribel Thomas said it about everything from ingrown toenails to funerals: "This too shall pass." Vonda's old flower shop neighbor Bill came back from a heart attack quoting her own words to her: "It's just a situation, and you'll get through it." And Lori still teaches from Randy Pausch's The Last Lecture — the brand-new convertible, the spilled drink, the mom flipping out, and Pausch, living with incurable cancer, shrugging: it's just a car.

They express gratitude — finding the good instead of hunting the bad, the same "challenge becomes opportunity" reframe members put on their bulletin boards during COVID.

They're at ease with vulnerability. Vonda asked how vulnerability differs from transparency, and Lori's take: transparency is honesty; vulnerability is sharing your whole heart. Genuine peace requires embracing your emotions, staying open, and sometimes feeling pain — and it's still a real struggle for a lot of us.

They prioritize mental well-being. Which brings it back to the "I need therapy" text: asking for help is okay. In fact, if you own a shop, that's the culture to build — you want your team comfortable enough to say "I'm struggling, I feel out of control, I need help." That's vulnerability, and most flower shops are a family anyway. It's part of what makes this industry beautiful.

With Mother's Day season coming, when frustration runs high and it's easy to lose sight of each other — check in on your people, control what you can, and make peace with the rest.

Key takeaways

  • In a slow season, put your energy in the 10% you control: marketing, email, social, and out-of-the-box ideas like sharing your space with a complementary business.
  • You cannot control how people respond to your decisions — feeling bad afterward is part of leading, not a sign you did it wrong.
  • Build in real solitude: a solo errand or a phone-free dog walk counts.
  • Borrow the mantras: "This too shall pass" and "It's just a situation."
  • Make it safe for your team to say "I'm struggling" — especially heading into Mother's Day.
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Hard Truths Flower Shop Owners Need to Hear

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