I don’t have a plan. And that is strange because as far as I can remember I have always been on a path – the girl with a plan. As comforting as a plan can be, I have also found it maddening. I’d focus all my strength; put forth all this effort, into a plan only to watch it go completely awry. Sometimes we are so intent on the plan, the narrowly defined set of steps we lay out, that we are unable to incorporate the inevitability of the Universe. Something that I have always regarded as truth is that the Universe has one mission: to fuck up your plans. The Universe is a bitch and I don’t intend to take her crap anymore.

So a few weeks ago, I abandoned plan making. My life had become the type of comfort that you could only find when you dislike EVERYTHING, but you wallow in this ability to complain about it. It’s predictable misery. I knew what tomorrow would bring and was completely uninspired. It was a routine that I was comfortable with but not happy about. I have felt this only one other time in my life. To abandon that plan was the most difficult, painful and unimaginable decision that I believe I will ever have to make.

This decision to “abandon plan,” thankfully, was much easier. Although I can see that it clearly baffles some of my friends and family. My anti-plan: I quit my job and gave up the lease on my apartment because I’m moving to Boston. I don’t have a job lined up and I don’t have an apartment of my own. I have voluntarily separated myself from the sources of therapy that have helped me through so much: my horse Sebastian; my kitties Sonni, Skinny and Isabelle; and some fantastic friends. I know the separation is temporary but without a plan, it is unclear when we will all be reunited.

In the meantime, this blog will be my therapy. I need an outlet for the crazy. And while writing in a leather-bound journal, outside under an oak tree, as the leaves fall during sunset seems more romantic, this just seems more honest.  Opening up to an anonymous cyberspace seems similar enough to talking to a subjective therapist or writing it down in a journal. Except there is no one to ask me “how did that make you feel” and I don’t have to worry about how pretty it looks in cursive. Besides, having people read my blog or not isn’t really the point. I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for me.

I don’t have a plan. I have a direction, and that is east. Plans imply expectations and disappointment. I have direction, which is much more flexible. I moved once to a place where I felt surrounded by fences and captivity. Now I move again, but on my own terms, and all I see are open spaces and possibilities. Not that a future without a plan is also without challenges. I’m sure it will be filled with them. I’m sure the Universe is none too pleased about my anti-plan. And I’m sure she will be lying in wait. So to her, I say “Game On.”