Currently, I sit next to my brain. 

Plastered in plants, gold-bound, filled with every single thing I’ve ever had to do for the past six months, an extension of myself—my planner.

I write down every small task to compensate for my terrible memory. A memory cracked by all the things I think about instead. I see cumulus clouds, and replayed dreams, and coffee beans being poured, and what color different music sounds like, and falling trees, and flower fields, and cities at night when they’re empty and quiet. 

The rest gets lost somewhere. And so, the more I write, the more control I have. 

But, why are the lists getting so long? 

Will there ever be a day when I don’t have to write a to-do list? 

Why can’t I ever accomplish it all?

My head hurts. 

Why is there so much? 

What do I do this all for?

Who do I do this all for? 

I can’t do this. 

And so I broke, and the to-do lists ripped. I looked through all the repetitive activities, I noticed how many “have-to’s” there were, and I realized that aesthetic highlighters and pretty handwriting couldn’t mask how overwhelming all the words are.

And so I re-evaluated. Clearly, my to-do lists weren’t working like they used to. I’m no longer the person I was when they did. I’m making decisions that impact a version of myself that’s an adult, and I have goals much bigger than Monday and Tuesday. 

And so I rewrote. I wrote everything I’d been storing in my head. On a piece of paper, I saw every goal I’d yet to accomplish, every relationship I felt I could be doing better in, every decision I needed to make, and every anxiety that hid in the cumulonimbus clouds. 

And so I realized I was going to be fine. Despite how long the list is, and how long it’s probably always going to be, I saw how manageable it all was. And I started to see why I did it all. Every single thing on my list could be done in a way that bettered me, helped those around me, or made the world a happier place. 

With the storm calming, I gained a new perspective. The more passion and love I have in my life, the longer my list will get, and I’m grateful for that. Every single thing I do has meaning if I do it with purpose, and I am capable of accomplishing it all. 

I’m grateful for the day I felt my to-do lists rip, and for how I see the world now because of it. I know there will be storms in the future, but for now, I’m happy the cumulus clouds and coffee beans are back.