Beyond plan C
It was a Sunday afternoon. My friend’s friend was lying on the velvet couch in the sitting room while I was in the bedroom consuming tens of unnecessary YouTube shorts.
The previous week had been an overwhelming one; I watched what I poured my resources and effort into sit at the bottom of a leaderboard and I criticized myself, my abilities and intellect in such a defeating manner. I had a schedule of things to do, however, I couldn’t even muster strength as small as a mustard seed. I could feel myself sinking even with the many hands stretched out to help me. I worried about the future of my friendships: “what if our values start diverging? Or a gulf of unexplainable events make us strangers once again?”
“What if their once genuine care becomes a venom?”
Consuming media content did the trick of helping me “forget my worry” but it was so short-lived that the anxiety returned mightier than it had been. I tossed my phone aside and stared hard at the pink wall.
Eventually, I crawled out of the bed, walked to the sitting room, and slouched myself on the armchair facing the room entrance. The television was airing a drama show and the volume was turned low. I looked in the direction of my friend’s friend; she was engrossed with her phone, so I sat there staring at nothing.
We haven’t spoken for more than five minutes and the bridge between, my friend, wasn’t around. I needed to break the ice, so after thinking for some seconds, I asked her, ‘Can you tell me what you do?’ It didn’t came out as I had rehearsed it in my head, but at least it broke the ice. Gradually the conversation transitioned from trivial matters to matters of existential questions.
Being older and more experienced than myself, she had a bowl of stories to tell: her career, relationships, and what not. My eyes were glued to her face as I listened attentively. Each story correlating to my similar situation.
While talking about how she overthought events, relationships, and what not, she said with a complacent smile,
“You have to live and not survive”
“Live and not survive? What does that even mean?” I asked scratching my Bob Marley hairstyle with my left hand.
She adjusted herself and continued, “Now, this may not be applicable in your case, but for me, being an overthinker, I always had plans. Plan A. Plan B. Plan C. especially when it came to human relationships. When I’m with friends or on a date, those plans danced in my head.“
But the problem is I’m an overthinker. I contemplate and consider, deliberate and debate things small and large in my life. Simple things become complicated and easy decisions become complex.—Alyssa Meier
“What if he stops caring?”, “what if I suddenly lose interest?” Those thoughts made me rigid and oblivious of the precious gift of the present.
Now, I’m learning to be fully alive in the present, to laugh loudly, to genuinely care and receive love without being pessimistic, and to live through the phases of my life without letting the thought of one overshadow the other. To live beyond plan C
“My dear, most things tend to sort themselves out at the end of the day,” she said, and silence followed.
At that point, my mind suddenly became peaceful.
Now, I’m also learning to not overthink my human relationships and life in general. I hope you are.
Bad things happen; what’s the use of spending the good times anticipating them?
Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. Philippians 4:6 (NIV)