Warning: this article is very emo and whiny. Part of me is disgusted for publishing something that sounds like it could come from some angsty teenager’s spiral bound notebook. Consume at your own risk.
I’ve never been one to plan. There’s no master checklist for my life. “Where do you see yourself in 5 years” questions always left me with a blank. Everything that’s happened in my life I’ve just stumbled into. Part of this stems from growing up with ADD, where planning something inevitably ended in disappointment (typically because I’d fail to follow through). Also because I’m just lazy and making and adhering to a plan is so much work.
What I’ve discovered lately is that, even though I haven’t planned my life, there are things that I have been taking for granted that they would just happen; things that I haven’t explicitly planned to happen but that I have grown to expect that they would always be there. Interestingly, when these things fail to happen, when things don’t end up like I expect, it invokes a similar emotional response in me as when my plans fail. It turns out that I have been unconsciously “planning” how my life would fall out. Confronted with the stark evidence of the failure of life to match up to my “plan”, the familiar depression sets in.
I really thought that I had been approaching life with a very open attitude, trying to be accepting of the random directions it can take. “I’m easy” has been my motto. As certain things shift in my life, I realize how I’m only “easy” within a pre-assumed spectrum of situations and events.
I’ve heard it said that suffering happens when reality conflicts with one’s expectations. When a reality slams head-on into an assumed expectation that has formed the bedrock of you’re life to date, well… let the suffering begin.