I Had a Plan...
When your energy demands a plan revision
2026 started better than expected. I had momentum. Just a smidge, but it was more than I’ve felt in what felt like forever.
Something shifted a little at the end of December. After more than a year of unemployment, I felt heavy and stuck. Maybe it was just me vibing on the new year energy and the possibility of fresh starts (yeah, I’m that person), but for a brief moment, it seemed like something loosened inside. I drafted a publication plan—a monthly “Day 1” Newsletter and weekly “Saturday Substack Letters”, outlined a list of topic ideas and prompts for the year, and wrote my first monthly newsletter (and published it). I drafted a bullet list of ideas for social media posts and even started putting together a content calendar for the year.
I don’t write for monetization; I write to make sense of my emotions and to share my experiences. My goal is to, hopefully, create a connection with others. I’m a Marketing Communications Specialist (when employed) by trade and thought, why not incorporate some of those work-related processes in my personal world—it might just ease a bit of stress when I’m inspirationally drained and (bonus) it could help me maintain a structure I’ve lost track of since being laid off over a year ago. But I digress. I started noticing things again—song lyrics that resonated, a podcast moment that struck a chord, something unexpected—and jotting everything down in my trusty notebook.
I even started looking for free events and activities (on Facebook) and adding them to my calendar as a tentative reminder about things that looked interesting. I also decided to approach job searching with a more flexible, low-pressure, no daily quotas approach. Instead of treating it like a full-time job, I flipped the narrative a bit. Clearly, my typical approach wasn’t reaping results. I figured, why not try something new? Instead, I focused on the benefit of flexibility. Yes, there are benefits to being unemployed, as long as you look at it from the right angle. I had big intentions… take more walks, enjoy more books, create playlists as I did in my teens and early-adult life, take more photos and maybe try a few new things too. Allowing myself permission to take advantage of all the no-cost activities I couldn’t do when I had a 9-5 (unless I used PTO). I thought this was a particularly healthy approach; it turns out I may have been fooling myself just a bit (a small dose of unintentional toxic positivity).
For the first half of January, it worked. I wrote and published two Saturday Substack Letters. I participated in a New Year’s Day group walk. I read actual job descriptions instead of struggling to skim the headlines in job alerts and submitted applications with a minimal amount of frustration. I even made it to a presentation on Lake County trails at the local library. Things were moving steadily in what felt like a good direction.
Until they weren’t.
On Saturday, January 10th, I laced up my sneakers and got out the door for what was supposed to be a short walk. Long story short, I walked too far (over 4 miles)—further than I should have after being as inactive as I’d been over the past year. To make matters worse, it was extremely warm and I didn’t bring a bottle of water. Needless to say, I pushed myself way too hard.
I’m pretty sure this was the point where it all unraveled. If I’m honest, things started to go sideways before that walk, I just wasn’t paying attention—but hindsight, as they say, is 20/20. It’s a lot like a battery—the power starts strong and steady, gradually diminishing a little each day—your devices move more slowly, lights dim—until one day you hit the on switch and nothing happens.
By the 15th, I knew an unintended revision was in progress. As I crawled into bed that evening, I realized I’d been running out of gas for days. I’d been opening daily job alerts, but the words on the page had little meaning. Reading job descriptions felt like an exercise in mental weight lifting and I was well over my weight limit. I shut down, literally and figuratively.
My sleep patterns were wonky (putting it mildly)—waking up at 10 or 11 am, feeling exhausted around 1 pm, and unable to fall asleep until 3 or 4 am (when I was lucky). I talked myself out of short walks. Telling myself, I’m too tired, it’s too cold, it’s too rainy, or simply, I just don’t feel like it. I deleted events I previously added to my calendar, virtual or in-person; it didn’t matter, I had an acceptable reason for not participating. I even stopped jotting things down in my notebook. And, my Saturday Substack letter—an activity that usually offers release, relief and a bit of joy—felt like pure unadulterated WORK (the four-letter kind)! The prompts and lists I so thoughtfully curated provided frustration in place of inspiration. I also completely ignored all the ideas I had for my social media platforms—my only posts have been sharing other content from friends and other creators. At least I’m supporting others, I guess that’s something.
I had a plan. A flexible, yet reasonable plan. A plan that seemed to be working (at least for a few weeks). But I have this pattern—I push too hard. I expect too much from myself. And, I don’t recognize when I’m overdoing it until it’s too late.
Oh, and then there’s the negative self-whispering—the quiet voice I don’t notice until the damage is done. The one that says you’re not doing enough, you’re weak, you’re lazy, you’re an imposter…. I could go on, but IYKYK. I’ll give others grace and understanding, but I won’t extend the same to myself. The voice is always there, always whispering. I try to quiet the voice, but honestly, I’m better at pretending I don’t hear it. But, eventually, I feel the after-effects: depletion, exhaustion and the absence of any spark and an unwanted type of energy that drives anger, resentment, and a host of other negativity.
I know that having a plan doesn’t mean things will go according to plan. That there will always be elements I didn’t or couldn’t account for. Forces I simply cannot control. I’ve come to accept that the problem isn’t the plan. The problem is that plans (good or flawed) need fuel, and sometimes our tanks just run dry. After 12+ months of unemployment in a market that’s crappy, applications sent into the black hole of silence, and the slow erosion that comes from one rejection after another, plus additional stress about current and future finances, I really shouldn’t be surprised that the burst I experienced at the end of December has vanished. If only I could figure out what prompted it—a question to ponder for another day.
Maybe that burst will return in time. For today, I’ll simply acknowledge that having a plan isn’t the same as having the capacity to execute it.
This detour from my regular schedule is my way of giving myself a bit of grace. For now, that’s enough.
A Closing Thought:
At one time or another, I think we can all benefit from the reminder that plans are not contracts. And, that we are allowed to meet ourselves wherever we are, even when that space looks nothing like what we expected or planned for (especially then).
“All human plans are subject to ruthless revision by Nature, or Fate, or whatever one preferred to call the powers behind the Universe.” ― Arthur C. Clarke.”
P.S.
What do you do when your energy runs low and your plans go off book? I hope you’ll share what works for you.