I don’t know this one

Imagine you’re on stage about to play a show.

You’ve practiced the songs.

You know the transitions.

You know the venue, and the crowd is familiar. This is going to be easy and fun.

The drummer, who you know and trust, is getting ready to count everyone in, and just as the four clicks start, you hear a band member call a different key for the song. It’s okay... you’re a professional. You got this.

The first verse and chorus are going great. Then, in the second verse, everyone in the band seems to know the song has changed. Again, you’re a professional, so you roll with it. All’s good.

The first song-became-mashup comes to an end. In the middle of the crowd’s applause, the drummer counts the band in, and you miss the unison line that everyone else nailed. You’ve never heard this song before. Again, you’re a professional, so you roll with it: albeit with slightly less confidence and engagement than usual.

The band’s playing with plenty of space and starts giving you subtle cues to step up to the mic. Things start to feel empty when you realize you’re supposed to do the vocals.

Instead of giving an awkward attempt at making up lyrics on the fly, you take a solo that was supposed to be the verse. The band covers for the awkward, short instrumental. Keen ears in the audience know something is wrong, but you and the band cover the unfamiliar moment well enough that everyone else is still having a good time.

This.

This is what last-minute plan changes can feel like for me if I’ve set expectations for how a day, night, trip, etc. is supposed to go. Thus far, my best tool for dealing with these moments is to proactively expect changes to plans. On a quest to remain flexible, I try to remember to build a caveat into each expectation.

The most difficult moments (from a plan change perspective) are when I forget to preemptively expect the plausibility of change. This seems to happen, most often, last-minute.

For example, if I was planning on going to a movie, but the group I was meeting wants to go to dinner (and communicates it once I’m about to buy my ticket at the theater window). Another example would be if I’m tired and ready to check into a hotel that no longer has room: forcing me to find another hotel or sleep in my vehicle. I’ve worked hard to keep remembering not to expect any single outcome, but forgetting can be unfortunately distressing.

One last note: I don’t want, nor expect, others to change their approach to plans for my sake. I accept and don’t expect small accommodations that might help me better engage with a group, but I’m interested in continuing to learn how to better cope with the complexities of life’s expected changes – not only hope for the lack thereof.