I am a planner by nature. I make lists, set reminders on my iPhone, obsess about every little detail, and spend sleepless night walking through the steps of the scenario. I usually have a back up plan mapped out in my brain, “just in case.”
If plan A doesn’t work out, and plan B falls through, then I’m already working on plan C, D, E, and F….. and so on. That’s just how my type A anxiety-ridden brain works.
I have never gotten so far in the alphabet as I have now. We’ve been trying to make a change since October of last year. Each time a new door opens with an opportunity we happily and hopefully pursue it. Then the universe, in all her glory, takes a baseball bat to that plan and smashes it into a million tiny pieces. Boom! CRASH!
I’m to the point now that I try not to get too invested in anything. I also don’t get completely destroyed when things don’t go my way, either. It eases the sting just a bit, but also it doesn’t give much to be hopeful for. So, planning kind of helps deal with the “what if this happens,” so my immediate reaction isn’t FREAK THE $#&@ OUT. And there’s also less feelings to eat.
There is, of course, the temptation to just say, “screw all of this,” and leave a path of burned black ash where bridges once stood. But I don’t.
I sure do talk a lot about lighting things on fire somebody who’s not an arsonist. Don’t worry, mom.
This is when that time machine that hasn’t been invented yet would sure come in handy.
Dude, science, get on that already.
I’d really like to just take a peak at my life, say 6 months to a year from now and just check in. That way I’d know where we ended up. It would certainly save me time from dreaming up scenarios that won’t most likely happen and also from daydreaming about lighting my work desk on fire. I’d also know how soon I needed to start weaning off the peanut m&ms stress eating so I wouldn’t weigh a million and a half pounds. Oh, if only…
But for now I guess I’ll cling to what hope I have left and try to stick with plan J, errr.. K? I’ve already lost count.