I used to be the kind of person who believed that a well-planned day was the mark of a well-planned life. If I could just organize my calendar, colour-code my priorities, and squeeze a bit more efficiency out of my mornings, everything else would fall into place.
Joy. Meaning. Peace. Possibly a book deal.
I had systems. I had apps. I once spent three hours researching the perfect time-blocking method while avoiding the very task I was trying to block time for. It was all very meta and very exhausting.
I scheduled workouts I didn’t do, blocked time for “deep work” I never got to, and felt guilty every single time I looked at my planner and saw how far behind I already was by 10:15 a.m. Most days, my calendar felt like a performance review I was failing in real time.
And I honestly thought the problem was me.
I wasn’t disciplined enough. I wasn’t focused enough. I wasn’t waking up early enough or batching tasks efficiently enough. I tried everything. Pomodoro. Sunday planning rituals. A bullet journal I never opened again after week three. I even downloaded one of those habit-tracking apps that sends you passive-aggressive notifications like “Don’t forget your goals!” which, somehow, made me want to set fire to my phone.
Eventually, I burned out. Not in a dramatic, glamorous, lie-on-the-floor-in-a-silk-robe kind of way. More in a numb, overly caffeinated, slightly dead-eyed kind of way.
I wasn’t just tired. I was bored of myself.
And that’s when I started to wonder if maybe the solution wasn’t another system. Maybe it was no system at all.
Rhythm, If You Can Call It That
Since then, I’ve been trying—trying being the operative word—to trade my rigid schedule for something that feels more like rhythm. It’s not as graceful as it sounds. There are still calendars and deadlines and mornings when I wake up and panic-scroll my inbox in bed.
But I’m slowly learning to listen instead of dictate. To move with my energy instead of forcing it into a pre-approved shape. To ask not “What should I do right now?” but “What actually makes sense?”
It’s humbling, if I’m honest. I’ve discovered that I’m less of a morning person than I once pretended to be. That my best thinking happens somewhere between 9:30 and noon, after coffee but before emails eat my brain. That I absolutely should not attempt creative work in the late afternoon unless I want to cry into my keyboard. And that my body, not my calendar, usually knows what’s best.
What I’m Trying (And Sometimes Forgetting)
Mornings are now reserved for writing, when I can swing it. I don’t check my phone until I’ve had one full thought. This is a lofty goal. I manage it maybe half the time.
Afternoons are for admin. Meetings. The things that don’t require sparkle, just stamina.
Evenings are looser. Sometimes I read. Sometimes I doomscroll and regret it. Sometimes I go for a walk and feel incredibly smug about it. Sometimes I eat toast for dinner and call it a “European-style meal.”
Weekends are where I’m experimenting the most. I try not to plan much before 11:00 a.m., unless absolutely necessary. I light a candle when I write, take baths without multitasking, and walk slowly enough that people pass me with concern.
And I still fall off track. Regularly. I still overschedule myself. I still think I can do more in a day than is humanly possible. But now, when I crash, I recover faster. I know what I’m coming back to.
Why This Isn’t Just About Being “Balanced”
This isn’t a gentle productivity tip. This is about how I want to live.
Rhythm feels like dignity. Like being in conversation with my life instead of barking orders at it from behind a desk.
It feels like putting the phone down. Like stepping outside. Like making soup. Like reading a paragraph twice because it’s beautiful, not because your brain short-circuited.
It feels like remembering I’m not a machine, and I don’t want to live like one.
Rituals Over Rigor
I’ve traded rules for rituals. Some are embarrassingly simple. Tea before writing. Stretching before bed. Music instead of email first thing in the morning. A candle that smells like eucalyptus and virtue.
These aren’t rules. They don’t scold me if I miss a day. But they give shape to the hours. They say, “Here we are again. Let’s begin.”
Resources I’m Clinging To (When I Forget All This)
Rest by Alex Soojung-Kim Pang
For when you need scientific validation that rest is productive. And also noble.
The Power of When by Dr. Michael Breus
A slightly hokey book that will make you feel less broken for not being a morning person.
Essentialism by Greg McKeown
Because doing less isn’t failure. Sometimes, it’s maturity.
I’m still not great at this. I still fall back into my old ways. But I’m trying. Slowly. Imperfectly. And with slightly fewer alarms.
I’m learning that rhythm is not a luxury. It’s a way back to myself.