Big Girl Panties Diaries — Entry #76: Cosmic Banana Peels and Other Ways the Universe Gets My Attention
I’ve spent most of my life trying to control things—color-coded calendars, bullet-pointed plans, ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room. If there’s a path, I’ve mapped it. If there’s a risk, I’ve overanalyzed it. And if there’s silence? You better believe I’ve filled it with noise.
But here’s the thing: no matter how hard I’ve tried to wrestle life into my perfectly curated spreadsheet, the universe has always had a way of slipping in her own edits. Sometimes subtle nudges. Sometimes full-on plot twists that leave me wondering if I accidentally signed up for the advanced-level obstacle course.
Take the time I carefully crafted an email—ten rewrites, triple-checked punctuation—only for the reply to come back in one word: “Thanks.” Or when I planned a vacation itinerary down to the minute, only for the best memory to be stumbling into a tiny diner that served the best dessert of my life. Or the text I rewrote three times before deciding to “play it cool” and not send… just to have the universe drop in a totally different surprise that had nothing to do with my overthinking.
The universe, it turns out, has a wicked sense of humor. She doesn’t send polite emails. She prefers neon signs, doors slamming shut, or a cosmic banana peel at just the right moment. Ignore a red flag? No problem—she’ll rent a billboard to make sure you get the message.
And yet—old me still fights her. I used to believe control was safety: overpacking for every scenario, building backup plans for my backup plans, Googling 47 possible outcomes just to be sure. Even now, when I say I’m “leaving it up to fate,” I often catch myself secretly grabbing the steering wheel back from the universe.
Then there’s the whole “is it a sign or just coincidence?” debate. Was that feather on the sidewalk a nudge from the universe, or just a pigeon having a rough morning? Did the number on the receipt mean something mystical, or did I just buy too much tea again? I can laugh about it, but the truth is—I want to believe there’s meaning, that someone bigger than me is connecting the dots I can’t see yet.
The funny part is that the universe often delivers something better than what I was fighting for. The job I thought I wanted but didn’t get? The one I did land turned out to be the right fit all along. It’s like the universe is saying: “Nice try, but trust me—you were aiming too small.”
And here’s the part I hate admitting: “trusting the process” is hard. My inner control freak twitches at the idea of waiting for a sign instead of bulldozing my way forward. Letting go sounds poetic—until I catch myself refreshing my phone every five minutes, waiting for proof that the universe is, in fact, on the job.
But I’m learning. Choosing not to push isn’t weakness; it’s strength. Releasing my grip doesn’t mean I don’t care. It means I believe I’ll be okay no matter which way things fall. That maybe, just maybe, the universe knows something I don’t—and she’s been trying to hand me the right script all along.
So I’m practicing the radical art of stepping back. Saying the thing, sending the note, taking the chance—and then letting the universe handle the timing. I don’t need to have the ending written before I live the middle.
Big Girl Panties Diaries Rule: You don’t always have to decide. If the universe wants your attention, she’ll find you—even if it means knocking you over with a plot twist, a closed door, or that cosmic banana peel you never saw coming.
💬 Your turn: When was the last time the universe saved you from yourself? Or gave you something better than you could’ve planned?