Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth

2026 has been a rollercoaster, and we’re only three months in. A quote from Mike Tyson sums up the start of the year perfectly:

“Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”

I’ve already found myself coming back to that line more times than I expected. A boxing analogy has never felt so relevant to my life. Tyson isn’t someone I’ve ever particularly related to or looked to for inspiration, or even thought of as especially articulate if I’m being honest, but that quote is one of the most bluntly truthful things I’ve ever heard. Right out of the gates, this year came swinging. The best way I can describe it is simple: out of the frying pan and into the fire.

At the start of every year, I set myself 20 goals. I’ve been doing it for the past seven years now. And I’ll be honest, I’ve never hit all 20. In fact, I haven’t even come particularly close.

On the surface, that sounds like failure. Why set goals if you’re not going to achieve them?

But last year was the closest I’ve ever come, a 61.1% hit rate. Do you know what that tells me? I’m making progress. Slow progress, yeah, but progress all the same. That’s something I’ve struggled with for a long time: the pace of my own journey.

So, what is my barometer for success? Like many people, social media has become the lens through which I watch the lives of the people I grew up with, whether from school or back home. They’re not kids anymore, and from the outside, they all seem to have their lives together.

Careers, financial security, nice houses, good cars, ticking off milestones that, for many reasons, I have yet to reach. And naturally, the question I ask myself is, why not me?

When I was younger, that question carried a lot of weight. It turned into pressure, frustration, even a bit of self-loathing at times. I never quite felt good enough because I was constantly measuring myself against other people’s timelines. I don’t have a career in the traditional sense or financial security. I don’t own a house or drive a particularly nice car. And for the most part, I’ve made peace with that, or at least I try to, because I tell myself this simply isn’t my path. The real question, then, is what is my path? That’s the million-dollar question, and one I’m still trying to answer. I’ve spent years trying to fit into what you might call “normal” society, working across different industries, but if I’m honest, very little of it has felt fulfilling, quite the opposite, really.

That said, my current job has been different. Working as a boatman and tour guide, I’ve found something I genuinely enjoy, something that feels both natural and rewarding. It suits my personality perfectly. I’m able to express myself, shape each tour in my own way, and connect with people without someone constantly looking over my shoulder. I’m trusted, and I feel respected, which has made all the difference.

I’ve been with the company for four years now, but unfortunately, that chapter is ending abruptly. I’m not able to go into detail, it’s a legal matter well beyond my position, but I can say I feel at peace with the role I’ve played and the energy I’ve given. It means a lot to be able to look back and know that every minute I spent working on the river was time well spent.

Essentially, I had the next year roughly mapped out. Working on the river is so flexible that I could build my life around it. I can go on trips and adventures anytime, play shows with my band, and spend time with my partner. It worked. Perfect work life balance.

Now that’s all gone to shit. By the end of this month, I’ll probably be unemployed, back to square one with the same old worries. How am I going to pay rent? Can I get another job quickly? What the hell am I even going to do? Who’s going to hire me? Questions, questions, questions that I don’t have answers to. I’m prone to anxiety anyway, my head tends to swing between everything’s completely fucked and I’m fucked, or it’s all going to be sweet and I’ve got this. I understand the concept of finding middle ground, unfortunately I have never been able to live there.

I know, deep down, that whatever happens I’ll be alright. I’m just being pulled down a different tributary of the river of life, an unexpected turn I didn’t see coming. The boat might be taking on water, but I refuse to sink.