When plans fail
I open the door of the small, stilted wooden house and step out onto the balcony overlooking the foaming red river that runs through the North of Thailand. I place my laptop and water bottle on the long table, go over to the main house to make myself a strong morning brew. While I’m in the kitchen, I grab a boiled egg, toast a thick slice of bread, say hello to my uncle whose house I’m staying in. I then walk back to the wooden house with my breakfast and coffee, switch on the balcony fan, settle down to write my 100th Val Thinks newsletter.
That’s how today was supposed to go.
Instead, I find myself alone in a hotel room in Bangkok, wearing more clothes than should be necessary in a tropical country, waiting for the relief as the cough lozenge slowly melts in my throat.
After 3 years of feeling invincible, last week I finally caught Covid. Or rather, it caught me.
The wrecker of plans
Covid has a stellar record of wrecking my family plans. Last summer, my partner and I were supposed to go on a trip in the North of Thailand with my parents. We flew up first, and my parents were to follow by car a few days later. On our first morning in the North, I got a call from my father: he had Covid.
Plans were abruptly changed to account for my parents’ absence. My uncle would take us around the North, and we would take the train back to Bangkok. We ended up having a lovely trip with my uncle, but I barely got to see my parents. Instead of spending a week together in the North, I only saw them at the end of our trip, when my newly-recovered father, accompanied by my mother who’d narrowly escaped the virus, drove us to the airport and the four of us had a quick goodbye lunch in the canteen.
This past Sunday, I was supposed to see my partner off at the airport then be picked up by my father to spend three weeks at home. On Saturday, I tested positive. Plans were abruptly changed, this time to account for my absence. The family road trip to the North—which would see me at the small wooden house by the river today—was cancelled. My hotel stay extended for one more week.
And that’s how I find myself writing this 100th newsletter in my hotel room in Central Bangkok, feeling less Coviddy
but still days away from going home to be with my parents. Given the whole point of coming to Thailand is to spend time with them, Covid has really thrown a spanner in the works.
When plans fail
I had intended for this 100th newsletter to be a collection of “Best of.” But when I sat down to write it, a “Best of” no longer felt right. The only topic on my mind now is Covid and the trail of wrecked plans in its wake.
When that second line appeared on my test, all my plans which had taken weeks to outline and confirm went belly up. The trip North, the meet-ups with friends, the quality time with my parents. I was suddenly planless.
I’m a Planner with a capital P. I plan my day, my week, my social calendar, my trips, bathroom visits and water stops while I’m out and about. Not knowing when to have dinner next with my friend, where to go this weekend with my partner, what work to do today stresses me out. Having plans fail is one of my worst nightmares.
But having Covid—and all my plans vanishing as a result—has forced me to live in a strange new world where I don’t—can’t—know what’s coming next. I don’t know if I’ll sleep through the night. I don’t know how I’ll feel in the morning. I don’t know if my tentative dinner with my friend in a few days can go ahead. I don’t know if I’ll still be infectious on Sunday when I go home and have to continue isolating in my room, or if I can roam free and spend time with my parents.
I should be stressed. But I’m not. I’m quite enjoying it, in fact—this not knowing and waiting to see what happens. One of my worst nightmares had come true, but the roof hadn’t fallen in. You make do, and somehow still find joy. Joy in sweating profusely in the hot bath. Joy in sleeping through the whole night for the first time in days. Joy in managing a 30-minute dance workout. Joy in slowly regaining your sense of taste and smell.
Covid has provided a timely reminder that even the best-made plans can fail for reasons you hadn’t predicted, and—more importantly—that life goes on nevertheless. You continue to wake up each morning and still have to fill your day with something. And even when your throat hurts and you’re coughing like a maniac, that something can still be moments of joy that put a smile on your face.
What do you think?
This 100th newsletter has turned out nothing like I’d planned. In fact, this whole week has. But I’m thankful I still find joy in my small daily victories.
How to find joy when your plans fail?
Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I’d love to hear from you. If you want to, share this with someone who’s always found joy even when all their plans failed.
While I’m staying with my parents (fingers crossed I’ll be Covid-free soon), Val Thinks will go on hiatus for a couple of weeks. I’ll see you back in your inbox on Friday 26th May.
Until the 26th… Stay thoughtful (and Covid-free),
Val
p.s. So you don’t miss me too much, here’s that collection of “Best of” for you to dig into while I’m gone. These aren’t the most popular newsletters on the site, but they’re my favourite (don’t tell the others):
I Can't Buy More Time—How much is one minute worth?
Reciprocity—Is it the birth or death of relationships?
Things I Won't Say—Rewiring my brain one unsaid phrase at a time
Do We Seek Love?—Or is it connection?
Too Much of a Good Thing?—What to maximise and what to optimise
Enjoy!
Photo by Matthew Henry on Unsplash
Suvarnabhumi airport pro tip: there’s a canteen on the ground floor with lots of stalls selling food at reasonable prices. It gets busy, but we’ve always been able to find a table.
Covid pro tip: keep yourself very warm at all times. The virus doesn’t seem to like it—it’s as if you’re literally sweating it out of your body.
Food and coffee tasted weird for two days. I was horrified.
The horror. I hope coffee returns to tasting normal as soon as possible.
There's a certain folly to being a "capital-P" planner - something I know all too well from first-hand experience. Life has a way of throwing a spanner in the works, sometimes it seems just with the intention of messing you up.