The plan that refuses to work
Optimization, control, and what matters
When I still lived in New York I was low-key obsessed with optimizing things. This meant figuring out how to get the greatest possible organic reach for The Caregiver Space through the Facebook algorithm. It meant tracking every symptom in order to figure out its cause and treatment. It meant reorganizing my apartment and buying little gadgets to reduce the ‘friction’ of everyday tasks.
A few years later, my life was not better. My wife was not healthier, nor were we still married. It turns out a tiny peer-run organization doesn’t thrive with a huge influx of members. My apartment had not achieved Jetsons level perfection. My devotion to regular maintenance had not saved me from having to deal with a flood. Optimizing my time somehow meant I spent more time dealing with unexpected surprises, put in longer hours trying to reach my goals, yet couldn’t keep up.
I circled for a while, trying to figure out what had gone wrong and not understanding how these things were connected. I had made a brilliant plan for my life and had been unable to manage the troublesome people and things and processes that had continually derailed it. Clearly, I needed to learn how to manage things better and then it would all be fine. There must be a way to learn to become charming and clever like some movie hero and then everything would align.
I circled as I whinged to my friends and family. I circled as I whinged to my therapist. I circled as I participated in our groups. I circled as I read voraciously on psychology and sociology.
I wish Oliver Burkeman had been there to gently point out that the root of my troubles was my belief that I should be capable of controlling my world. In Meditations for Mortals he gently disabuses readers1 of this notion. Instead, while he was writing the book, I was learning its lessons the hard way. Luckily, the universe was merciful with me.
Eventually, it became undeniably clear that I had focused my energy on fighting reality. Reality always wins, hence when I doubled down and fought harder, my life only became worse.
Not only was I fighting reality, I was missing the point. At work I’d been so focused on easily measurable metrics that I’d overlooked what was most important to our peer-led organization. As I tried to optimize my life, I had assumed that an easy life was a good life, without thinking about how many of my cherished memories center around things that went wrong. I had not asked myself if health was the end goal or if what we’d really wanted was a fulfilling life.
What finally helped me stop circling and whinging was a series of coincidences and things going wrong. Of having to enlist help and treat them like rescuers instead of unruly characters who keep going off script. Of realizing that I’d been wildly off the mark about what mattered to me by discovering things that felt meaningful.
Not everyone has that kind of time or such a patient community. Thankfully, there are a lot of books out there ready to help us stop circling. To stop fighting reality and figure out what accepting reality even looks like.2
Another excellent book on the topic is Brian Klaas’ Fluke. He provides the facts to allow us to release our grip on that handful of sand we’ve been clutching. To let go of trying to change the past. To accept what is currently happening. So many of us are stuck in a holding pattern, not realizing we’re refusing to land. There is a way forward.
I got an audiobook from the library and listened to it while running errands, which you may or may not consider reading.
Hint: it’s not just giving up.
Funny how we have parallel thoughts! Zachary White and I were talking recently about this work by the stoic philosopher and slave Epictetus https://classics.mit.edu/Epictetus/epicench.html. All about distinguishing what you can and cannot control in life and lessons therein for caregivers. I think this is a really important topic. Thank you for sharing Cori!