Getting a new planner every fall was one of the things I looked forward to most in high school and college. My mainstay for many years was the overpriced Lilly Pulitzer agenda that came in a number of vibrant patterns and had several sheets of fun stickers. I justified the cost by reminding myself I’d be using it religiously for 365 days.
Back in the day, I was great at filling my planners to the brim. I’d write down every meeting, homework assignment, appointment, and social gathering with my colorful pens. Seeing how busy I was on paper made me feel like a Big Girl who had Important Things To Do. It was quite motivating, and made me good at meeting deadlines and remembering when things were happening.
But somewhere along the way, planners lost their sheen for me. After I graduated college, I started going weeks, then months, without writing down what was going on in my life. To be fair, I did begin to use digital organizational tools like Google Calendar, so I was still able to keep track of work meetings. But the diligent planner use of my youth was beginning to fade away.
One thing I’ve learned about myself is that if I don’t write down what I have to do in a day, I am going to forget to do it. Usually, I’ll remember the most important tasks. But everything else will fall to the wayside, or I’ll be wracked with a constant anxiety that keeps me searching my mind to recall what else I need to do.
There have been periods of my life in the past few years where my lack of organization has left me scrambling. Here’s an example: During my first year of working from home, I’d stay glued to my computer all morning for fear of losing track of what I was doing. As a result, I’d forget to eat lunch most days.
I didn’t know what to eat for lunch because I hadn’t planned ahead. So by the time I was too hungry to think straight, I’d wander into the kitchen and then get frustrated because nothing was ready to eat.
So I just wouldn’t eat until Ryan got sick of me being grumpy. And then I’d just settle on a peanut butter sandwich, which was fine, but always made me sleepy.
Then for the rest of the workday, I’d fight to stay awake at my computer and try to keep myself busy. But I wasn’t great at prioritizing my projects because I couldn’t visualize deadlines in my head very well. So I wouldn’t really get much done in the afternoon, anyway.
My lack of organization and general frustration with my brain would often put me in a bad mood. I’d stew in that lingering sense of failure even when I was off the clock.
It became obvious that I needed some way to organize my tasks on paper. But I couldn’t stick to a planner, so I had to come up with other ideas.
For a while, I’d put sticky notes on my computer if there was something really important going on the next day. That worked well for remembering the big things. The small things, like lunchtime — not so much.
Then, I tried writing down to-do lists, which was pretty similar to how I used to use my planner, but felt less formal. I liked to-do lists for a while, but found that I would put too many things on them and feel like I didn’t do enough at the end of the day. I also would only put work tasks on my to-do list, which meant that I’d neglect doing things around that house that I really wanted to get done.
I also tried making time-based schedules, which had mixed results. I’m not the best at estimating how long things will take, so I’ve frequently found myself taking too long on a task and then having to steal time away from the next task, which throws off the schedule. Once it falls apart, I get stuck and don’t know how to move forward.
I’ve had more success with time-blocking when I give myself too much time to do stuff. But overall, that method doesn’t work great for me.
What does work well — or at least, has been working lately — are checklists. I use an app to make them, rather than a paper journal. And because I have my phone on me all the time, it’s easy to revisit them throughout the day and add to them as needed.
Now you’re probably wondering, how is this any different than a to-do list? In practice, checklists and to-do lists are basically the same thing. But the way I approach checklists is quite different from a to-do list, and that’s what makes them better.
For starters, a checklist evokes a sense of accomplishment. Completing a “to-do” feels like an obligation, but a checking off a “task” feels more like an achievement. This is a subtle mindset shift, but one that helps me approach my daily tasks like opportunities and choices, rather than things I must do to prevent something bad from happening.
When I make my checklists, I’m also pretty good at including things from all aspects of my life that I want to get done — not just work tasks. I’ll write down things like “make lasagna for dinner” or “go for a walk” that I know I need to do to function. It’s not difficult to get those things done, but having a reminder is helpful. Plus, I like to put a few easy tasks on there so that I still can get a dopamine hit from checking them off.
I’ve also started making multiple checklists on my phone: one for daily tasks, one for time-sensitive tasks that I need to do by a certain point, and one for miscellaneous things I want to do at some point. Whenever I remember something I want to do, I can put it in the miscellaneous checklist and move it to the daily list when I’m ready to tackle it.
It’s a simple system, but it quite literally helps me sleep at night. Seriously — I’m prone to lying awake in bed ruminating on what I need to do the next day. But with my checklists, I can offload the responsibilities buzzing around in my head and actually shut down for the night.
Even if it doesn’t work forever, I’m thankful to have found a system that seems compatible with my brain for now.
Reminder: I’m teaching a writing class this upcoming weekend!
It’s called Grief and Memoir: Writing to Heal. If you’ve been a reader here for a while, you’ll know that I frequently write about my dad’s passing in 2018 and how that experience left a lasting mark on me as a person. Writing is a way for me to process that loss year after year, because grief never really goes away.
I designed this class to discuss the practice of grief writing — why it matters, what to do when it feels difficult, and how we can use it as a tool for healing. If you’ve been impacted by a significant loss in your life, be that of a parent, pet, friend, or even a place or state of being, this class is for you.
**Read more about the class here.**
It’s 100% virtual, and writers of all experience levels are welcome. Class is just $10 per person, and will be hosted through WordHaven Bookhouse.
We’ll meet ONLINE on September 14 at 1pm Central.
If you enjoyed this post, consider dropping a donation in my tip jar on Ko-fi!
This newsletter will always be free to read and share, but I rely on the generous donations of readers to build financial security and keep this project going long-term.
Huge shoutout to my 2024 supporters:
Dennis T.
KRW
Grandma Gin Gin
Tara Y.
Murphy Kaye
Maddie B.
Mom
Emma H.
Molly G.
❤️❤️❤️