Lately, I’ve been composing lists. Lists of things to do and list of things to buy and lists of things just so I could have a list of things.
Creating and writing lists have a surprising therapeutic effect on me. It calms me a bit. It removes all anxieties. It makes me feel capable and unstoppable and all those good things that a person who feels in control of their life feels. And once I’ve finished composing that list, suddenly I have a much clearer outlook on life and don’t feel as if I’m being pulled in fifty different directions all at once.
I’ve been challenging myself to be a more organized person, lately. I’ve printed out a few pages of the Passion Planner and have begun trying to mark it up in a way that will make sense to me. I figured, if I’ve mastered the list, I can certainly master the planner. Besides, what better way to begin the journey of organization than through the use of one. Except, I’ve been struggling trying to plan out my week or write down the events and happenings of my week. I just can’t plan ahead as well as I thought I could.
With lists it’s easy and concrete. With a planner it isn’t. It’s almost as if I’m giving myself more work and tasks to complete with my planner because it isn’t filled with things to do. Since last night, I’ve been contemplating writing that book and getting some actual research done in way of it. But at the same time, I have my final paper to write and submit before Friday and a discussion question that I need to answer before Wednesday, as well. I’ve contemplated spending at least an hour just writing to help with my craft, but I still haven’t packed for my trip this weekend. Unfortunately, haphazardly tossing clothes and items into a duffel bag isn’t packing, especially when that’s not even the bag that I’ll be using for the trip.
So I’m quintessentially undoing all the progress I’ve made with my lists over the past few months as I try to acclimate myself to the world of planners, and write down more than doctor’s appointment and paydays and when my classes begin and end.
But it’s only Monday.
I’m stressing myself out over what this week is going to look like and writing it all down in my planner and forgetting that today is only Monday, which means that anything written down after today can change within an instant. That beautifully colored block of time which denotes work, can easily become just a colored block. There’s always the possibility that I might get sick and not be able to come in or that something will come up. There’s also the possibility that, God forbid, I am let go from my job. Those written in appointments below the colored block can change as well. Something can possibly run into those scheduled times. Something can be cancelled freeing up that slot. Something can come up, forcing me to rearrange everything. And the neat-freak I am, will have a heart attack trying to make the necessary changes. (I have this weird thing about inking up paper and then having to correct what I’ve inked and feeling the need to trash the whole thing and start all over.)
So, welcome back the anxiety and stress that I had so carefully been avoiding and welcome back that Monday headache of not knowing what I’m supposed to be doing, besides sitting here and trying to make it through the day without crashing and burning in the middle of it.