I Absolutely Don't Like This...

So, life has been a bitch lately…

There’s really no poetic way to say it. No need for metaphors or wise-sounding quotes. Sometimes, life just grabs you by the throat and asks, “So, what now?” And the truth? I haven’t had an answer.

How do you deal with disappointment in a way that still honours your humanity, your emotions, your dreams, without getting sucked into a pit of bitterness or apathy? How do you feel pain without letting it swallow your sense of power?

Let me be clear: I have a great life. I’m aware of that. But awareness doesn’t cancel out irritation. It doesn’t erase that gnawing feeling when things don’t go your way. It doesn’t answer the question I’ve been asking myself lately: What’s on the other side of these setbacks? Are they detours, dead-ends, or just really badly wrapped lessons?

I had plans. Capital P. First quarter of the year was supposed to be different. I entered 2025 with intention—monthly goals, quarterly targets, clearer vision. I told myself I would do things differently this time. No more freestyling like 2024. Yes, last year turned out surprisingly well despite the lack of structure, but I wanted more. So I plotted, I planned… and then life started life-ing.

It’s annoying, this feeling that I did “the right things” but still ended up off-course. So now I’m standing here, staring at my neat little list of Q1 goals like an ex I’m not sure I want to text back. Do I recycle those plans into Q2? Abandon them entirely? Start fresh with what’s ahead, or wing it like I did last year?

If you’re reading this and nodding, wondering how to navigate a year (or a life), that has swerved in the exact opposite direction of your intentions, let me offer one word: surrender.

I know. That’s not how I was raised either. I wasn’t taught to surrender; I was taught to fight, to strategize, to manifest, to work harder. But what if surrender isn’t giving up? What if it’s actually the most powerful thing we can do when everything feels uncertain? What if letting go is the only way we make space for something bigger?

So I’ve been asking myself different questions lately.

What does rest really mean to me? Not just sleep or Netflix binges, but deep, bone-level rest. The kind of rest that comes when I’m not trying to control everything. Can I still want something with my whole heart and not grip it with white-knuckled desperation?

And maybe more importantly, can I trust that even when my plans fall apart, I will not?

Because here’s the truth: I still want beautiful things. I still have dreams. I still have plans, some written, some whispering quietly in the background. But now, I’m learning to hold them loosely. To pursue them with love, not attachment. To be open to the mystery of what might come instead.

So, what about you?

Where in your life are you clinging too tightly? What would it look like to loosen your grip and I don't mean to give up, but to open up?

What if surrender isn’t weakness, but wisdom, and if your plans never go the way you imagined… could that be okay? Would you really really really be fine if you don't achieve your set goals?

There’s no funeral for goals that don’t come to life, no eulogy for the version of you that was banking on things going a certain way, but maybe we need to sit with that grief. Maybe it’s okay to say, “I wanted this. I tried. And it didn’t happen.” Maybe the healing starts there.

In therapy, there’s a phrase: radical acceptance. It means accepting reality as it is not as we wish it were. Not because it’s fair or kind or what we deserve but simply because it’s happening. That doesn’t mean we like it. It doesn’t mean we stop working toward change. It just means we stop wasting energy resisting what already is. In that space, we find clarity and sometimes even peace. I published an article Accepting What Is, this is like a sequel to that.

What if the version of your life that didn’t go “according to plan” is actually the path that leads you home to yourself? What if you stopped asking, “How do I get back on track?” and started asking, “What track am I actually on and where is it taking me?”

I get it, surrender sounds nice in theory, but in practice, it can feel terrifying. It can feel like losing control, like giving up your agency. However maybe there’s a difference between control and care, between attachment and commitment, between striving and being present.

Can you still care deeply without micromanaging the outcome?

Can you commit to your growth without punishing yourself for how long it’s taking?

Can you believe in joy even when you’re walking through uncertainty?

Maybe this is the invitation to pause, breathe, and ask different questions. To grieve what didn’t go as planned, while staying open to what could still surprise you. To show up, again and again, even when the map is blurry.

Because maybe the real work isn’t about forcing the year to fit your script. Maybe it’s about learning to dance with what shows up.

And if that’s true, what kind of dance would you choose?

If this piece stirred something in you, made you pause, or gave you language for what you’ve been feeling, don’t keep it to yourself. Share it with someone who might need a reminder that it’s okay to loosen the grip and trust the detour. It also helps our online community grow.