"So what if, instead of thinking about solving your whole life, you just think about adding additional good things. One at a time. Just let your pile of good things grow."
Rainbow Rowell
Rainbow Rowell
I've become a person I once despised: someone who takes herself out for coffee to dream up personal development goals.
The transformation began a few months ago. In a bid to become less work-obsessed, I started jotting down adventures I wanted to have away from the office, like completing my Christmas shopping, getting a pedicure or trying three new recipes.
I've instructed myself to finish editing my boyfriend's book, to run two miles in a row, to schedule a time to Skype with my best friends.
By the time I was yammering on to my boss about how I did such-and-such a thing because my goal sheet demanded it, I knew I was a goner.
Near the beginning of each new month, I take myself out for a mini #kelseyparty. I think about who I'd like to be in 30 or 31 days (a better partner, a smarter writer, a video gamer) and then create plans to get me there.
As a recovering perfectionist, I used to worry these monthly to-do lists would cause me to lose my cool. I didn't want to become so fixated on finding moments to relax that I lost sleep at night.
In reality, they've freed me from some of the worst parts of myself, the parts that try to convince me that it's a waste of time to binge watch an entire TV season in a day or wake up after 10:00 AM.
I've found space for self-care that once felt out of reach. I've learned to be a better daughter and friend.
And I've felt like a weirdo all the while.
They key to my to-do listing is keeping things straightforward and attainable.
Instead of something vague like "lose weight," I choose "take at least 10,000 steps 5x each week" or "eat vegetables with lunch and dinner."
I don't sweat the goals that I miss, preferring to copy them onto next month for a second (or third or fourth try).
I like reading through the items I've completed and checked off, reveling in the time I've invested, smiling about what I've added to my pile of good things.
This month, I banned myself from complaining about work. Sure, there were some slip-ups. But it's incredible to think of all the whining I could have done but didn't.
In short, my monthly to-do list makes me feel like a lean, mean, goal-achieving machine.
Tonight, I'll take a final stab at May's list, before dreaming up who I could become in June.
I'll play with my cats, stream a documentary and take 5,000 more steps.
But mostly I'll be grateful for this neurotic, simple, silly little way I've found to be a better me.
The transformation began a few months ago. In a bid to become less work-obsessed, I started jotting down adventures I wanted to have away from the office, like completing my Christmas shopping, getting a pedicure or trying three new recipes.
I've instructed myself to finish editing my boyfriend's book, to run two miles in a row, to schedule a time to Skype with my best friends.
By the time I was yammering on to my boss about how I did such-and-such a thing because my goal sheet demanded it, I knew I was a goner.
Near the beginning of each new month, I take myself out for a mini #kelseyparty. I think about who I'd like to be in 30 or 31 days (a better partner, a smarter writer, a video gamer) and then create plans to get me there.
As a recovering perfectionist, I used to worry these monthly to-do lists would cause me to lose my cool. I didn't want to become so fixated on finding moments to relax that I lost sleep at night.
In reality, they've freed me from some of the worst parts of myself, the parts that try to convince me that it's a waste of time to binge watch an entire TV season in a day or wake up after 10:00 AM.
I've found space for self-care that once felt out of reach. I've learned to be a better daughter and friend.
And I've felt like a weirdo all the while.
They key to my to-do listing is keeping things straightforward and attainable.
Instead of something vague like "lose weight," I choose "take at least 10,000 steps 5x each week" or "eat vegetables with lunch and dinner."
I don't sweat the goals that I miss, preferring to copy them onto next month for a second (or third or fourth try).
I like reading through the items I've completed and checked off, reveling in the time I've invested, smiling about what I've added to my pile of good things.
This month, I banned myself from complaining about work. Sure, there were some slip-ups. But it's incredible to think of all the whining I could have done but didn't.
In short, my monthly to-do list makes me feel like a lean, mean, goal-achieving machine.
Tonight, I'll take a final stab at May's list, before dreaming up who I could become in June.
I'll play with my cats, stream a documentary and take 5,000 more steps.
But mostly I'll be grateful for this neurotic, simple, silly little way I've found to be a better me.