I’m not much of a planner. Never have been.
As a kid, I had many interests thanks to a love of reading. Stories of nature, the wilderness, horse racing, athletic achievement and family drama were supplemented by Reader’s Digest biographies of historical figures—queens, kings, barons of industry, bankers and my favorite, Madam Curie. Every story was a new adventure. I held my breath through the challenges and was enthralled with the grit, courage and stamina of the protagonists. I learned that the world held endless possibility just waiting for me to grow up.
Similarly, as the second of six kids, every day was unpredictable. I enjoyed the barely managed chaos. It kept me engaged with life and forced me to develop a broad set of skills. But it also shaped a level of uncertainty I learned to accept. Life moves, people change and what was true yesterday at noon may be different by tomorrow morning at ten. This, too, excited me to wonder what I would be when I grew up.
And then I did. Grow up. It wasn’t—and isn’t—as exciting as I imagined it would be. I’m not as courageous or famous or even as gritty as the characters I read about. In fact, I’m embarrassingly boring by comparison.
But the cool thing is that I still remember the feelings of possibility and not giving up that I read about. These sustained me through my own dramas.
Some people take unexpected change as a personal affront, especially when it involves missed appointments once agreed upon. Learning to go with the flow takes practice. Managing disappointment and finding a purpose different from the one you set out with takes energy. I was lucky to learn and understand this early. On the days when nothing goes as planned I get curious about what’s coming.
This attitude grates on some. I respect that. I also know that many youngsters don’t learn to read well. This breaks my heart because without access to worlds beyond our own, we shrink to fit our circumstances.
But this is not about learning to read per se. It is about realizing that our plans are subject to change. They can vaporize with a phone call, an accident, or a poor decision. Whether we can adapt to new circumstances matters not only to here-and-now wellbeing, it has everything to do with mental health. We need some level of stability and predictability to anchor our growth. Too much chaos teaches us to shelter, protect and learn fear. Too much sameness leads to shallow uninspired rote.
Why this matters? When we subject ourselves to uncertainty on purpose, we learn to anticipate discomfort. Staying safely within the feeling, we learn to move forward anyway. Having done so, we look back and find agency.
When plans change unexpectedly, you can look for what’s possible or someone to blame. The choice manifests in a light step and accepting chuckle or a determined quest for a scapegoat. You get to choose.
