Freak Out Friday
I am a bit of a control freak.
You’ve finished laughing now?
ANYWAY – as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me with your loud and uncouth guffaws, I like to have things a certain way. I have spreadsheets. And databases. And checklists. And plans. OH SO MANY PLANS.
When things aren’t falling into my plan bucket the way they’ve been charted on my spreadsheet, one of two things happen.
- I lose my mind and run around like the proverbial decapitated chicken because everything is wrong and why isn’t it going the way it is supposed to! This generally involves panic and throwing my hands up in the air. Eventually I calm down and regroup (i.e. reorganize my spreadsheets).
- I run out of fucks to give.
You know what? This was a stupid plan anyway. I obviously am not good enough/smart enough/pretty enough/nice enough/dedicated enough/strong enough/enough/enough/enough to do whatever it was that was charted and spreadsheeted. So fuck it. I quit. I will sit around and curse your name and play Candy Crush, because my ability to conquer level 1,133* will sure show everyone that I am awesome.
- I take a moment to reflect on what has gone wrong. Was it within my control? If yes, I’ll figure out how to fix it. If no, I’ll regroup calmly (with head and all), readjust, and move on. I will remind myself that this is generally not a reflection on me, my brains, looks, personality, or any number of other things. Shit happens. It happens to everyone. It’s my ability to shovel shit that makes me successful. (I’m totally coming out with a line of inspirational drink ware with that slogan.)
As it is still September (and the fun part of September is still 20 days away), I’m still in the midst of my AHHHHHHHH stage. I haven’t joined a hermitage yet, which I feel is a good beginning (also I’m unsure as to whether or not they’d take me; sounds kind of male-dominated).
So today is about not freaking out. About taking the moments to breathe through the disruptions to my plans and my schedules. To work on spontaneity. I will never fly by the seat of my pants, but at the very least, I can leave myself open to new experiences that aren’t on the calendar, right?
I can roll with the punches (not literally; no one had better punch me). I can pick myself up, dust myself off, and get back at it if I get (again, metaphorically) knocked down.
And, if things don’t go quite as planned, it’s okay. I promise.
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