All according to schedule.

My struggle adapting to changing plans.

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I found myself awake at 5:23 a.m. this morning. My alarm was set to sound some hours later, so you can imagine how frustrated I was at having been prematurely awoken. I was incredibly keen to return to sleep but my body was unwilling. I’ve heard very similar complaints from some family members, waking in the early hours of the morning and struggling to fall back to sleep, I hope with everything inside of me that it isn’t a genetic trait. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling of my dark room, I began thinking through the day that lay ahead of me. I spent some time with my grandparents this week and I was due to make the two hour return journey (and I was driving, I couldn’t busy myself with something else while travelling). I also considered that I may have to urgently collect something from a friend, which would include another 90 minute round trip. Already growing frustrated with myself and my lack of sleep, the minutes and the math began to exhaust me and my mood soured. On top of that, I grew increasingly aware of the passing time, and the fact that I would have to face my hours of driving on far less sleep than I had counted on. As I reviewed my schedule, which grew steadily busier as I tacked chores on, each more pressing than the next, the task of writing this week’s journal began to seem impossible. Well before sunrise I had resolved that I simply could not meet my writing deadline, and I would instead write one sentence: Due to unforeseen circumstances, Jeremy’s Journal will not be published this week. Clearly I’ve had a change of heart.

Unable to fall asleep, I began to turn that phrase over in my mind. It seemed to me that whenever I encounter the expression ‘due to unforeseen circumstances…’ I expect bad news. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I am currently lost somewhere in the Parisian public transport system. That was a tough day, and a long story for another time. The term seems to be synonymous with ‘unfortunately’. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I now find myself awake before dawn, with little hope of falling asleep again. You can verify just how unfortunate this is if you’ve ever found yourself in the same position. However, after a quick google to reassure my instincts, I am confident that the true nature of the phrase has little to do with disaster and despair. Yes, you may often hear it used in conjunction with cancelled soccer games and delayed trains, but whether negative or not, the term merely refers to things happening unexpectedly. It was absolutely unexpected, and unwelcome, when I awoke before the sun this morning. In the same breath, squashing against a balcony railing with my family the evening before to take in the the all-encompassing dusk that set the sky alight with reds and oranges was quite unplanned, too. Due to unforeseen circumstances, my grandparents, my girlfriend and I fell silent in the presence of marvellous ruby clouds, their reflections dancing on the waves below.

The real thing was unbelievable.

It feels quite unusual to use the saying that way, doesn’t it? Perhaps my usage is even grammatically incorrect, but I think it stirred an observation in my thinking. I am quite the planner. In fact, I come from a strong lineage of planners. The grandpa I visited at the beach plans to the tee, as does his daughter, my mom. They undertake organisational tasks very seriously and with incredible grace, my mom’s calendar is colour coded and her office filing system rivals that of internationally renowned museums. I like to believe that I carry some fraction of their talents. While my affinity for planning can be of great help in my professional life or when packing for a holiday (my mom forgets nothing and I aspire to reach this achievement), I am, predictably, flawed. I get carried away, believing my plan for the morning or holiday or group project is designed to yield the best possible results. And because I plan so enthusiastically and with such detail, I can react to unforeseen circumstances quite poorly. I sometimes even sulk, pouty face and all. I remember one morning that didn’t go my way: my girlfriend and I picked her niece up from kindergarten. The plan was to walk into town to get some ice cream, babysit for a bit, and then drop her off. The previous day my girlfriend and I had been to an ice cream shop I quite liked and I was under the impression that we would be visiting that particular shop again. I had already picked out the flavour of ice cream I’d get before the two of us arrived at the kindergarten. I was really excited. When we stopped at a different ice cream shop, I was totally thrown. My girlfriend’s sister and brother-in-law ended up joining us, and they all had a lovely time. I sort of did, but I spent most of the afternoon convincing myself that this new ice cream shop was fine, too. It was really hard to let go of my plan. Due to unforeseen circumstances, Jeremy didn’t quite enjoy what could have been a wonderful afternoon.

Perhaps when some plans go awry, the result is objectively disappointing: the flight is cancelled, the party is postponed. It’s perfectly reasonable to wallow in sadness for a minute or two upon hearing that news, I think. Doing the same because of a change in ice cream shop is, maybe, less understandable. I was so attached to my plan that no matter what else we did or where else we went, I would have been disappointed. I tend to believe that my plans are good ones, and perhaps they are, but I get myself into trouble when I believe that my plans are the only good ones. That’s when the unplanned becomes synonymous with the unfortunate. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I didn’t get my way, which means that everything is ruined. That’s a dramatisation, but I often have to talk myself out of that kind of thinking: if only things had gone the way I planned them, everything would be much better and everyone much happier.

This morning, when it seemed as though I had no control over how much sleep I’d be operating on, I began looking at what I could control. I quietly assigned myself tasks, writing and then periodically rewriting schedules in my mind so that I could optimise the time I had left at the beach with my grandparents. But I also have work and chores and responsibilities to think of, so I started to weave all of my duties and deadlines into one big safety net. The colour coding and to-do lists allow me to believe that I’m in control of my day, and that because I’m in control, all will be well. This is a lie, I’ve learned. My most cherished memories and the stories I love to tell seldom include things going to plan. They are of slow, winding, nothing days spent with friends, until the sunset blurs our shadows together. They are about speaking broken French with tears in my eyes, trying my best to get across France in the middle of a public transport strike. The images that fill my heart with joy are of the unstructured, unplanned, unexpected, messy parts of life. The same is true of the moments that have encouraged the most personal growth. When I am faced with a challenge I never could have anticipated or comprehended, I learn that I am far more fragile and capable than I knew. I’ll stick to checkboxes when I pack my bags for the next adventure, but I’ll try to remind myself that my best stories are built from broken plans. Due to unforeseen circumstances, that went quite well…

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I’m can’t say I’m glad that I was awake so early for no reason, but I’m glad that I didn’t give you one sentence this week. If you liked this journal, please send it to someone you love.