This Is How I Live Now

I don’t plan because I want control. I plan because not planning costs me later. Before I say yes to anything, I run through the day in my head — how long it will last, where I can sit, how far I’ll have to walk, what happens if I can’t leave when I expect to.

This kind of planning doesn’t feel like strategy. It feels like maintenance. I check the layout of places. I notice parking, entrances, stairs. I think about how long I’ll be on my feet and whether there’s a quiet way to step out if I need to.

What used to be simple choices now carry weight. Not because the activity itself is hard, but because everything has a ripple effect. One long morning can change the rest of the day. One extra errand can erase the energy I was saving.

I don’t explain this to people most of the time. From the outside, it probably looks cautious or overly prepared. Inside, it feels practical. It’s the difference between getting through the day and paying for it later.

The planning isn’t anxious. It’s steady. It happens early, quietly, and without drama. I make decisions before the day begins so I don’t have to negotiate with my body once it’s already tired.

This isn’t about avoiding life. It’s about shaping it into something I can actually live inside. Planning becomes the default because it has to — not as a preference, but as a way of staying upright through the day.