There is something intoxicating about starting over.
Monday.
The first of the month.
September.
January 1.
A brand-new planner with absolutely nothing crossed out, scribbled in the margins or abandoned sometime around page 47.
Just last night, we were talking about healthier eating habits. My sister-in-law said she would never start a new habit on a Monday. A lively discussion ensued with all of us agreeing there is no right or wrong day to start a habit. She voted for Tuesday by the way.
We have such grandiose plans.
We think “this time will be different”.
We'll exercise regularly. Plan meals. Stay on top of the laundry. Use the planner EVERY DAY. Keep the kitchen counter clear. Answer emails in a timely fashion.
Perhaps we'll even become one of those mysterious people who remembers to take the reusable grocery bags into the actual grocery store. Oh my gosh, can I just remember this please!
And for a while, it works.
Until it doesn't.
You miss the morning walk because it's raining.
Tuesday gets away from you.
Wednesday you're traveling.
Thursday you realize you haven't opened the planner since Monday.
And there it is.
That little voice:
Well, that's ruined.
Apparently three imperfect days have invalidated the entire operation.
Time to start over.
Again.
ADHD loves a fresh start
There's a reason fresh starts can feel particularly delicious to an ADHD brain.
They're new.
They're interesting.
They're full of possibilities.
They have bright shiny objects. Our favorite!
The planning itself can be fun. Choosing the notebook. Setting up the app. Rearranging the calendar. Deciding exactly how the new routine is going to work.
The Dopamine surge is so, so good!
Until it isn’t.
Because maintaining the thing three weeks later when the novelty has worn off?
Boooooorrrrrriiiiiinnnnnnng.
This is how perfectly good planners end up collecting dust on a shelf and useful systems get abandoned because we stopped following them perfectly.
Can you say Notion anyone? My assistant and I checked in on mine this morning.
We found a whole lot of nothing.
Did the system fail? Maybe. Did I forget to renew my Thomas Frank subscription for the template. Well that’s looking pretty likely.
So worse yet, we failed.
Or maybe nothing failed, life happened (I have been on a semi-sabbatical after all).
And my use of the system has been middling at best.
I’ve already changed my subscription to free until we figure it out. My hunch is we won’t change it back.
You didn't go back to zero
This is the part I want us to get better at remembering.
If something was working and you stopped doing it for three days, you haven't erased everything that came before those three days.
You didn't go back to zero.
You got interrupted.
There's a difference.
Think about being on a boat.
You're headed somewhere. The water changes. The wind picks up. You get distracted by something shiny on the shoreline because, well, you know. Eventually you notice you're drifting a little off course.
Would you turn the boat around, sail all the way back to the harbor, dock it, unload everything, reload everything and begin the entire trip again?
Of course not.
You'd adjust the rudder.
Maybe by two inches.
That's it.
You're still on the journey.
But we LOVE the harbor
Starting again at the harbor feels so clean.
There are no mistakes yet.
No missed days.
No evidence of our humanity mucking up the beautiful new plan.
Course correction feels so much messier. Because it requires starting from where we actually are.
- With the laundry that's already piled up.
- The inbox that already has 642 unread messages.
- The routine we haven't done in two weeks.
- The paperwork that's still sitting on the dining room table.
- The calendar that's gotten a little out of control.
We don't get the dopamine hit of the shiny new beginning. Let’s face it we’re on an eternal search for the dopamine. Just me?
Instead we just get Tuesday.
But Tuesday is where our actual life is happening.
Before you replace the system, ask what happened
Sometimes a system really doesn't work. (Like Notion and I had such big dreams for it)
Please stop using it.
You do not owe lifelong loyalty to a planner.
But before you toss the whole thing and begin System Number 37, get curious about what knocked you off course.
- Was there one part that was too complicated?
- Did your schedule change?
- Were there too many steps?
- Did you put something where you thought you should use it instead of where you actually need it?
- Did the novelty simply wear off?
- Or did you miss a few days and decide that meant the whole thing was over?
Those answers matter. (My answer for Notion is question #1 all the way)
Because if you don't know what knocked you off course, there's a decent chance you'll build the exact same problem into the shiny new system.
Only this time it'll have prettier tabs.
And since I mentioned Notion being more complicated, I’ll probably go back to Asana because it’s easier. Or maybe Google tasks so I used my existing workspace. Hmmm…decisions for another time. And there’s zero hurry. Which leads nicely into -
Making the system easier to return to
I think we spend too much time asking:
How do I make myself stick with this?
I'd rather ask:
How do I make this easier to come back to?
Because you're going to fall out of routines.
So am I.
- Vacations happen.
- People get sick.
- Work gets crazy.
- Family members need us.
- Sometimes we just get bored.
- Life gets lifey.
A system that only works when life behaves itself isn't much of a system.
The goal isn't perfect consistency.
The goal is having somewhere useful to return to.
Maybe that means leaving the planner open on your desk instead of putting it neatly away.
Maybe your vitamins live next to the coffee maker because coffee is the one morning routine you could apparently perform during a small earthquake. Because COFFEE.
Maybe dinner planning means choosing three meals this week instead of seven. Make extra. Have leftovers. I’m a big fan of batch cooking.
Maybe your launchpad by the door isn't Pinterest-worthy, but your keys are actually there.
Good.
It's working.
Move the rudder two inches
So if September has you looking around at everything you meant to be doing by now, resist the urge to declare a complete reset.
Don't redesign your entire morning.
Don't buy six organizing bins.
And maybe back away slowly (ever so slowly) from the planner aisle. I’m just not going because it’s way too dangerous. Bad enough I can get on The Container Store website at any time.
Instead, ask:
Where have I drifted?
And then:
What's the smallest adjustment that would point me in the right direction again?
Not fix everything.
Not catch up.
Not become a more disciplined human being by Monday morning.
Just move the rudder.
Two inches.
Put the planner back on the desk.
Choose tomorrow's dinner.
Take the walk.
Put the basket where the stuff actually lands.
Schedule the appointment.
Return to one thing (habit) that was already helping. Did you see I said one? Please don’t try to change all of your habits at once.
You don't need to start over.
You're already underway.
You just need to steer from here.
Need a little help getting back on course?
Sometimes the hardest part isn't knowing what to do. It's getting yourself to come back to it.
That's why I created Get More Done Accountability, a place to work alongside other neurozesty people who also get distracted, interrupted, and occasionally wander off course.
No starting over required.
Just show up from wherever you are, choose your next thing, and begin again.
