I used to have this really bad habit. I say used to, because it is something I discovered about myself quite a while ago and am in the process of changing this undesirable quality I saw in myself, or at least lessening its effects. This bad, destructive, horrible habit is…I plan too much.
On the surface, it doesn’t sound too bad. You think, “maybe she’s really organized” or “she must really knows what she wants in life” or “i bet she is super focused and ambitious”. I can only dream that any or all of those thoughts were the case.
No, in reality what that means is that I have always felt so out of control of my surroundings and myself, that I deal with it by trying to plan out the ‘big moments’ of my life, while all I really do is stress myself out about how I’m going to make those moments happen. In most cases, this desire to control things that I really can’t control brings me more pain than pleasure.
I bring this up because I had another case of the “plannin jeebies” and I’m hoping to control my need to control things I cannot control…as strange as that sounds.
The attack was brought on by a moment of panic as I considered what I should do after I returned from my 3+ year RTW trip (especially silly since I haven’t even left for the trip yet). At my point of planned return, I will be 30 years old and never held a job much longer than a year (unless something unforeseen happens on the road). Currently, I have had only short term internships in the subject I received a master’s degree in and no professional experience in the field I am convinced (for now) that I want to be in for the rest of my life. Reading all that, I kind of get why I’m freaking out. Any sane normal person would be!
Then again, I’ve never claimed to be neither normal nor sane, so why should I start now. The old me would take those facts and stress and obsess about how I could have a career as soon as my trip ended and whether I should even go on the trip, because aren’t I wasting valuable time in which I must build my career or else risk failing at life??!?!!? The old me would then proceed to build my career over the next 3 years and be extremely, irrevocably, distressingly, miserable that I had missed out on the trip of my dreams. Old me, I banish thee!
Instead, I choose to live.
I choose to embrace this amazing life decision I have made to travel. I choose to do this without reservations, without guilt (ok, maybe a little guilt, but it’s guilt against my will!), and without any clear thoughts on what I will do when I get back.
And I am finally ok with that.