Sorry, life’s been crazy lately

When it comes to collaborating with people, a good rule of thumb is:

They’ll get to it when they get to it. Or they won’t.

Either way, it’s out of your control. You can circle back, check in, chase down, reach out, follow up and touch base to your heart’s desire. But nobody owes you anything. Nobody is obligated to act according to your expectations.

Time passes, priorities change, and life happens.

They’ll get to it when they get to it. Or they won’t.

It’s one of the unfortunate realities of human nature. And the sooner we accept it, the less anxiety and frustration we will have.

But it’s hard. When you’re excited about moving a project forward, and a day or two passes, then a week, and a week turns into two, the silence becomes harder to ignore. You get up in your head about it.

Was it something I said? Are they getting cold feet? Maybe they’re too busy with other commitments? Did they forget about me? Was their email marked as spam?

So you replay their last conversation in your mind, searching for any sign of disinterest or hesitation. But all you can remember is the excitement you’d shared. It’s so bloody unsatisfying. Collaborations that start with so much promise fizzle out without explanation.

My personal favorite is when people finally get back to me after nineteen days of radio silence, and say some variation of, life’s been crazy lately.

What I want to say to them is:

Life isn’t crazy, it’s just life. That’s your perception of normal challenges, fluctuations and demands as being overwhelming. In reality, it’s simply the natural ebb and flow of life. The ordinary rhythms of living. People like to label life crazy when it deviates from their expectations of how things should go. But crazy? I doubt it. Complex and unpredictable, sure, but not crazy.

No, crazy would be someone saying:

Dude, you’re not going to believe this, but the reason I couldn’t get back to you about that thing is because of the giraffes. I was taking my regular leisurely stroll through the park, when I heard strange bellows. Looking up, I saw not one, but three giraffes galloping down the main street, their long necks bobbing up and down like ships in a storm. Apparently, the zoo had an unexpected breach in security, and the animals decided to make a break for it. Naturally, I spent the better part of the morning helping zoo staff corral the gentle giants. Then I had to go to the steam room to sweat out the musky smell of poop and orange blossoms.

Now that’s crazy. I am willing to forgive someone’s sin of ghosting in light of giraffe related incidents.

Look, I’m compassionate about the fact that everyone is fighting a battle that I know nothing about. I only wish people would be more honest about it. I wish people would own the fact that crazy is a matter of perspective. Crazy is how they’re choosing to frame their experiences. Just once I would like an email back from my collaborator that says, thanks so much for sending this. Looks great so far. I’ll get to it when I get to it. Or I won’t. But feel free to proceed without my involvement if you need to. Nothing crazy about that. Are obligating people act according to your expectations? Whose priorities and timelines are frustratingly different than yours? I think the key to avoiding this interpersonal anxiety is depersonalization. It’s the only way to avoid misinterpreting people’s intent as aimed towards us. Because our instinct is to assume that annoyingly nonchalant people lack commitment or care. That their disturbingly consistent aura of calm is a disrespectful and dismissive of our time and effort. Maybe. But before we silently seethe at people’s blatant disregard for deadlines, let’s remember what the great zen master once said. I may be the center of my universe, but others orbit their own stars. It’s not as personal as we think it is. I once spent six months sending text messages to a cousin of mine, and never once heard back from him. I was so annoyed. During the holidays, we reunited in person, and I asked him why he hadn’t responded. Oh, I got a new when we moved, he said. Didn’t you get the email I sent out to the entire family with my updated contact information? Well shit. And all this time, I was texting cat gifs to a deactivated phone. Look, this whole issue boils down to this single but powerful practice. Expect nothing. People always talk about managing their expectations and lowering their expectations, but I’m not sure that’s ambitious enough. They need to delete them. Don’t keep your expectations at bay, let them drown. Expect nothing. From anyone, anything, anywhere. Including yourself. This philosophy might sound cynical and bleak, but it’s actually liberating. Because when you expect nothing, you appreciate everything. When your working assumption is, they’ll get to it when they get to it, or they won’t; now you’re winner regardless of the outcome. If they do get to it, then you’ve gained contribution. Now you can move forward with their feedback. If they don’t get to it, then you’ve gained clarity. Now you’re free to move forward with your own ideas, resources and decisions. Expect nothing, appreciate everything. Doesn’t that sound healthier than resenting people for not being more like you? Why manage what you can delete? I remember the first time my expectations got the best of me. I had an opportunity to be interviewed on the biggest morning show in the country. The network flew out a camera crew and a producer to my hometown to film me getting a nametag tattooed on my chest. I was celebrating the five year anniversary of my social experiment, and this news segment would capture the moment and broadcast it to millions of people nationwide. After we wrapped the shoot, and after I wiped all of the blood off my aching chest, the producer thanked me for my time and vulnerability. Michelle said she’d be in touch with details on our go live date. Then for the next four months, absolutely nothing happened. Nothing. Every day I pathetically waited for the one email that was going to change everything. But it never came. Total radio silence. Meanwhile, my gut twisted into knots. I started popping antacid tablets like cereal to deal with the stress. I didn’t have a solid bowel movement for weeks. I even got a referral for gastroenterologist, who did a colonoscopy to make sure I wasn’t dying from colon cancer. Thankfully, the test came back clean. It was just stress. Which came from my profound sense of expectation. Long story short, the network cut the segment. It never went live. For all I know, the footage is buried in the bowels of the archives somewhere. Or the producers simply deleted it and moved on to more urgent news stories than a man who wears a nametag every day. But that experience changed me. My stomach was never the same after that. Took me years and years to learn how to manage my stress more effectively. And the best mantra I learned to say was, I expect nothing. I expect nothing. I expect nothing. It’s not cynical. It’s not bleak. It’s liberating. They’ll get to it when they get to it, or they won’t. Who hasn’t gotten to you because life’s been crazy lately?