But You Never Had Control. All You Had Was Anxiety.
Finding freedom in surrendering my compulsion to plan.
Welcome to Are You Mad At Me? — a weekly newsletter about anxiety, perfectionism, self-esteem, living with unanswered texts, recovering from people-pleasing and becoming better friends with ourselves.
A couple weeks ago I woke up in a glorious mood. I had decided today was a day where I was going to be productive. FYI, I had decided this the night before, along with my outfit of straight leg jeans, a ruffled blouse and gold hoops which I had laid out on the cream chair next to my bed. I had a full day planned — cranking on work, packing for my trip to visit my sister in Denver, having tea with an aunt, and going to a 6 PM barre class which would leave me the perfect amount of time to cook my perfect chicken and vegetable dinner in time for a perfect 7:30 PM supper. The plan… was flawless. Also, just in case you don’t think I’m totally neurotic yet, I had put all of this in my iCal with color-coded time blocks. Things felt orderly, clean, totally in control.
So I wake up, feeling all ready to be productive and “on it”, when shit hits the fan. My toilet began to flood the bathroom, and let’s just say it wasn’t clean water. I scrambled to clean up the bathroom, but the s(h)ituation got worse, and after I called the plumber, I decided I had to leave the house and go somewhere with a functional toilet for the day. I did not put on my pre-planned outfit and I did not start my day working promptly at 8:30 AM like I had scheduled. But life was in session, and I went with it. Without taking you hour-by-hour into what turned out to be truly one of my most unlucky days — let me give you a couple highlights (or lowlights rather):
Toilet floods; plans for perfect work day are ruined. I go to my mom’s house (where snacks & plumbing are present and functioning) — but alas, it was not the plan.
Sister has COVID. So we have to cancel our trip to Denver less than 24 hours before we are set to leave.
Go visit my aunt and on my way to my workout class afterwards, I get a flat tire (turns out, 2 of my tires needed to be replaced but that’s a story for another “we make plans and God laughs” time)
I miss my workout class (& do not get the money back).
I finally get home after the longest day of unexpected derailments, and my. toilet. is. not. fixed.
I go back to my mom’s house on the other side of town because once again, I need working plumbing and snacks.
If this happened even 6 months ago, I would have been writing a newsletter about how anxious I get when the plan gets ruined, how I feel totally out of control and hate how dependent I am on the outside being calm and orderly in order for my insides to feel calm and orderly. I’d be telling you how my whole life I’ve been told I am a bit of a control-freak, not spontaneous enough and need to “go with the flow” for once (please watch THIS Tik Tok video if you relate lol).
But that isn’t what happened. I kept waiting for the anxiety to hit — I have grown to expect it like I expect that first little jolt of caffeine in the morning when the iced latte hits my lips. Where was the complete overwhelm I was used to?
The nothing is in it’s place feeling
The I feel untethered because I can’t even plan my day tomorrow because I don’t know when my toilet or car will be fixed feeling
The frozen in the midst of uncertainty feeling — the kind of frozen that’s revved up, like if you were to press the gas and the break at the exact same time feeling.
But it didn’t come. The wave of “everything is a mess” didn’t crash over me like it has for 30 years.
I can’t even believe I’m saying this (and honestly writing it here to even record this for myself because I will definitely forget), but when all my plans went to shit (literally) - I felt free. Suddenly, there was nothing to plan, schedule, perfect, or control — and even if I wanted to do any of those things (which let’s be honest, I often want to do ALL of those things) — it wasn’t an option. And I wasn’t mad about it. I was deeply, to my bones, relieved. The joy I felt for those couple of days where everything was going wrong and everything was up in the air and I couldn’t plan anything was some of the most happiness I had felt in a very long time.
I’ve (over)thought a lot about why that is. Planning and scheduling and demanding that my days be ordered and organized before they happen has been my security blanket - my big sigh of “oh everything is ok” relief for as long as I can remember. In the middle of a workout, I think about what other workouts I’m going to do that week and if I have the right mixture of cardio and strength. When I’m on a good date, I’ll get excited about when I can see this person again picture my calendar for the following week in my head. On the last day of school every year until 10th grade, I would go to Staples to buy my school supplies and organize my binder for the next year. I have been completely convinced that routines and plans make me happy. And I’m realizing I might be wrong about that. I think that the very compulsion to always have a plan is the thing that still makes me miserable. Like I think it’s the medicine to my anxiety or fear of uncertainty, but it might actually be making it worse.
Because somehow, when all my plans got thrown out the window AND I couldn’t make any new ones because I was waiting for factors outside of my control, I was catapulted right into the very thing I try to avoid — this one, awkward, beautiful imperfect moment. Suddenly I was where my feet were, doing the thing I was doing, with nothing else to figure out or understand or know. A joy welled up. An excitement about aliveness. A feeling like I am being carried by the currents of a river I did not design and have spent my whole life trying to manipulate so I could be comfortable.
Each time my brain started to think about, well “I can’t have a whole weekend without plans now that I’m not leaving LA…who should I text?” I heard a small voice that said “no planning yet…” and I would practice deferring the impulse. “Maybe I’ll plan a little later…but not now,” I kept telling myself.
“Oh but what about my workouts?” Let’s defer that question to later.
“Should I look up movie times for tomorrow night?” Let’s defer that question for later.
“What about the fact that I have no dates lined up?!” Let’s defer that question for later.
I just kept saying “not yet, not yet, not yet” to habitual need to know what’s next and I had one of the most full, present, exuberant weekends. The days unfolded, and from some higher knowing in my body I was shown what to do, what next step to take. Some say god is good orderly direction, and in putting down the planning — like an addict puts down their drug — I had access to this good orderly direction. Timing started to align in ways I could not have planned — like my car was ready to be picked up in Santa Monica at the exact time my mom was going to be in that part of town and could give me a ride. I had a very unexpected and fun afternoon near the beach waiting for said car because it took 5 hours longer than they said it would. But I didn’t resist and I didn’t try to figure out the next thing. I leaned in. And the unexpected and unplanned turned out to be good…great even.
So what am I letting go of? The loooongggg list of things I think I need to do, know, understand in order to be peaceful and content: having a plan, your perception of me, the internet’s perception of me, the Bumble guy’s perception of me, a perfectly clean apartment, a body that’s 10 pounds lighter, a perfect workout routine, an equally perfect skincare routine… the list goes on and on.
Because maybe all the things I think I want more of (see above), I actually want less of. Maybe I am outgrowing the security blankets I’ve left claw marks in. Maybe I’m ready for more freedom and spontaneity and going with the flow than I give myself credit for.
Maybe it’s true what Elizabeth Gilbert says “You're afraid of surrender because you don't want to lose control. But you never had control. All you had was anxiety.
Life. simply life.
Oh and also this unreal, unfiltered view of Baff from my trip to Canada last week.