Dealing With Failed Plans

It took me almost two months to gather my thoughts and to find them worth sharing after every single travelling plan crushed down on my head with a loud vexatious sound. When the pandemic started in March I remained in hopes that mapped out routes for our Europe trip in May would stay as planned. Full of brave proclamations that the seriousness of the virus is overstretched by the media, hoping, daring to hope that in two months my feet would touch the grounds of London, Paris, Prague and some picturesque old cities of Germany, I kept praying for the positive outcome. I suppose it is easy to guess that no plane took off to London on the selected date. Now, no matter all temptations to share about the tears I shed and devastation I felt, I decided to control myself and instead to share some musings that were born in the middle of my acceptance of the reality.


Before my fellow reader would decide to wonder my level of spoiledness and would decide to remind me that while I did not enjoy croissants in Paris and considered it the biggest disappointment other people were losing loved ones, losing jobs and going through way more distress than I faced, I wish to justify myself. All those facts and self-blame for a rather egoistic attitude were on my mind as well. However, despite such convincing facts, the disappointment was there and to overcome it I had to walk through all the stages of acceptance of the reality. The well known in psychology stages of grief are Shock, Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Testing, and finally Acceptance. Thus, removing shock (because two months before final borders closure I was kinda preparing myself for that) I started with bargaining. I would even call it differently. It was more of a self-convincing action that no matter what happened it happened for the best. The strategy worked for a week or so. I was in between cheerfully productive movements when the conviction strategy worked, and a sudden flow of tears when something unexpected reminded me of the failed plans. 


After I cried for a couple of days burying dreams of seeing blooming trees in Prague this year, after I finally convinced myself that I had no right to complain, spending quarantine in the comfort of my home, without being sick, I moved into the stage of depression. Not that condition of stagnation where only qualified help would save my well-being. It was that form of a body that wishes to do no movements, and mind that avoids thoughts of any creative activity. Frankly, the stage of laying in bed with Netflix tv-shows did not last that long as well, and I moved to the testing stage. Self-pitying motions of the depression stage put me in the condition where I could no longer bear idleness. Thus, the stage of testing was filled with early wake-ups and constant business, contrarily to the previous week. I tested myself on what I could create while dwelling in the condition of disapproval of the current situation. Supposedly, the theory that anger and overflowing emotions can be triggers that drive out impressive results, has all rights for a justified existence. I admit, now when I am fully in the stage of acceptance and thankfulness for every day, I do not create with the same thrive as I did in the testing stage. The testing stage is different for everyone. One would find it as the literal test for sanity and maturity. Meanwhile, the other one will find such a test as a source for artistic expressions. Both options have positive impacts on the mind because they allow either a creation of a masterpiece or self-knowledge expansion. 


It has been almost two months since the necessity to understand that a human being holds no absolute control over even the most well-arranged plans. Through waves of anger, questions, tears and hopes there was something else, something I still work on. There was a fear of dreaming again. I certainly can think of myself as a person who took off pink glasses a while ago, yet keeps believing in beauty, nobleness and dreams that sooner or later would come true. Yet, this time witnessing the fragility of my plans and having no ability to fix the situation I found my heart in vexations for the slightest sign to support the crushed dreams. I prayed for the peace in my heart deciding that dreams worth another chance. Then I did something else that I believe supported the dreams through this time and it still does (because after all we can not plan abroad travelling yet). During stages of acceptance, I did something I intuitively knew would walk me through and would allow me to keep the dreams alive; I trusted God with every single bit of it. Every broken piece was laid down, and my spirit acquired a cheerful condition again. Sun was bright and warmingly pleasing again, and the sky was azure blue despite all previous devastations. Thus, that is where my hope was found. 

I still have the desire to complete the planned trip, yet I surrendered the rush of the pursuit. I find such an attitude allows me to see each day with a positive approach, it keeps my dreams alive without putting extra and unnecessary pressure on them. Therefore, when tickets would be finally booked once again, and routes walked through streets that hold art and history, I would be calm and thankful, I would accept the dream coming true with a graceful welcoming smile, instead of fanatic embrace.