I have a confession to make. I cancel things. I don’t mean in a cancel culture sort of way. I mean plans. It doesn’t matter whether I was invited to something or initiated the plans myself. Lunch and coffee dates, Zoom meetups, medical appointments, shopping errands, parties, conferences, trips — I’ve canceled them all. In fact, if it’s something I can cancel, there’s a 50-50 chance I will.
For example, today was parent/teacher conference day at my kids’ school. Last night, before I went to bed, I canceled six 15-minute conferences. For a moment, I felt like a slacker mom who doesn’t care about her kids, but I know I’m not. I like to think I gave each of those teachers a much-needed 15-minute break in an otherwise busy day. But that’s not why I did it. Yesterday, report cards came out. I chatted with both kids about what they felt went right this quarter and what they thought they could do better in the next quarter. I looked at their grades and read their teachers’ comments. Satisfied with this mini-evaluation and comfortable that if I have any questions, I can email their teachers (all of whom I’ve met), I logged into the conference sign-up page and clicked “cancel this appointment” six times.
I always make plans in good faith. Yes, I tend to cancel, but I also know that there are many times when I don’t. I would never miss school events, drama performances or baseball games. I’ve even been the room parent for each of their classes and shown up for every single class party. When it matters, I show up. And not just for my kids.
I may postpone errands until I have a list of 10 places I need to go, but I’ll dutifully hit them all in a single day if I have to. I show up for my immediate family and closest friends and I don’t cancel when my absence will inconvenience someone else. For the things that truly matter, I’m there. It just took me a couple of decades of my adult life to realize how few things truly matter.
There was a time when life seemed less busy and less filled with stuff — before smartphones, social media and FOMO (fear of missing out). We have the whole world at our fingertips now and it seems like there’s always something I’m supposed to be doing or somewhere I should be going. And there was a time when I gritted my teeth, slapped a smile on my face, and powered on, fulfilling every harebrained obligation that had seemed like a good idea a week, a month, a year ago.
I’ve always been inclined to cancel because I’m an introvert. Before FOMO, I was already a fan of its counterpoint, JOMO (joy of missing out). In high school, I clearly remember saying yes to hangouts with my friends and dates with boys who were nice enough, and then “getting sick” at the last minute. Back then, I felt guilty. Now that I’ve reached an age where my own happiness and comfort are more important to me than other people’s approval, canceling plans leaves me feeling something else entirely: Relieved. And I know I’m not alone. There are a lot of us who are overworked, over-scheduled, over-stimulated and just over feeling that way.
Knowing all of this, I still try to avoid canceling things. I don’t want to be known as flaky or unreliable. I don’t want to lose nonrefundable deposits or pay cancellation fees. I definitely don’t want to lose the trust of people I respect or the friendship of people I care about. But at the end of the day, my most important obligation is to myself, and I have to listen to that inner voice telling me I need a break and some quiet time to decompress. It doesn’t mean I don’t care, and it doesn’t mean I don’t want to be invited to the next event. It just means that sometimes day-to-day life can feel like too much and I need to breathe — with no plans, commitments or obligations.
Do you often cancel plans? Or do you have friends who often cancel on you? Let us know in the comments below.
Elizabeth Brockway
Follow Article Topics: Relationships
