Don’t be prepared

As Nike said—

I was raised to be prepared for everything.

This was an asset early in life. I aced every exam because I was always ready, a string of successes that culminated in a coveted scholarship that paid for seven years of study at top institutions abroad—the beginning of the rest of my life.

But then I graduated, and being prepared became a liability.

Oblivious, I continued to strive for it. But instead of the grades and glory of my childhood, all I got for my preparedness was constant, low-grade anxiety.

So I’m giving up. And you should too.

First, a story

Yesterday Mum and I went to the Land Office to transfer Dad’s deeds to my name. She’d called and asked what documents we needed to bring. I’d called and asked the same.

We went prepared. Or so we thought.

As soon as we arrived, we were told the transfer of Dad’s second plot in a different province would take a month to process, not the one day we expected. I was leaving in a week.

Then, as we proceeded to transfer Dad’s first plot of land, the one with our house on it, we discovered the house dimensions were not indicated on the deed, nor anywhere in the system, which meant the deed couldn’t be transferred.

As Mum and I scrambled to message everyone we thought might know, the Land Officer nudged: You should go to the municipal office to get the correct information.

So I called up the municipal office—gotta be prepared, you see—and asked them what documents I needed to bring so they could certify our house size.

They gave me the list, I checked we had everything, then Mum and I rushed off to the municipal office. Only to be told, when I presented all the documents, that we’d come to the wrong municipal office.

So off Mum and I went again to the third government office of the day, where we finally obtained the correct paperwork before returning to the Land Office to complete the deed transfer, three hours later than expected, with Dad’s second plot still in his name.

Oh, and then, when we were leaving the parking lot, I drove us into a parked car.

An impossible goal

You know the moral of the story.

We think preparedness is a state we can reach, that if we put in enough preparation, we can be ready for anything.

But we’re wrong. Because there is no end state of “prepared” where nothing will go wrong. Something will always happen that you didn’t predict. Something will always happen that you couldn’t prevent.

And we know this. We know we can’t prepare for everything, yet being prepared is hailed as a virtue and so we strive for it—and suffer. We try to gather all the information, put in place all the precautions—all the while expecting something to go wrong.

We think we’re anxious because we haven’t done enough, but we’re actually anxious because we’re striving for an impossible goal.

What if we see preparedness, not as a state but as a spectrum? And instead of reaching for that elusive end state, focus instead on failing within a reasonable range?

Instead of trying to be prepared for that job interview, that big project, that first date, what if you just aim to be reasonable—and go for it? Would that not relieve the pressure, the anxiety, the burden we carry?

Yesterday at the Land Office was a farce. But I’ve been in so many other situations where I put so much into preparation and things still happened that I was completely unprepared for. When my first employee said she wanted to leave after a month. When I burnt out from caring for my post-op partner within a day. When I’d prepared for Dad’s death for four and a half years and missed his funeral anyway.

There is so much in life that we can never prepare for. So why torture yourself with the impossible?

Why not just do it and see?

What do you think?

Whenever I’m paralysed by preparation, I remind myself of Nike’s wisdom. I credit this bias towards action with all the good things in my life.

Is preparedness giving you grief? Would you ever just do it?

Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I’d love to hear from you. If you want, share this post with someone who’s been preparing for something for so long.

Until next Friday… Stay thoughtful,

Val