Some people journal. Some meditate. I create highly detailed to-do lists I will absolutely ignore by 3 p.m. Welcome to my very unhealthy coping mechanism.
I am in a long-term, mutually destructive relationship – with planners. To-do lists, digital calendars, sticky notes. They make me feel lazy and useless, I leave them to gather dust after the first week. We fight. We make up. We never break up.
If it’s not in my calendar, I will 100% miss it. I have to set recurring reminders to pay rent, refill prescriptions, or even text people back. I rely on these tools like a lifeline. And yet—I also ignore them constantly. A snooze button hates to see me coming.
Planning my week? Overwhelming. Planning my day? I’ll start strong with some time blocks and then promptly spiral into a rabbit hole of rearranging my workspace or Googling something that just popped into my head and I suddenly need to know everything.
Don’t even get me started any plan I’ve made for my own time. It’s immediately optional. Cancelable. The ghost of intention.
If someone’s depending on me—if it’s a work task, a friend waiting, a due date—I can usually pull through. But if it’s “Saturday: Finish that painting / read for an hour / finally open the sewing kit I bought in 2019”? Forget it. We’re watching video essays about cults until it’s time to go back to work again.
A Surprising Streak (Brought to You by Spite)
Somehow, miraculously, I’ve had a planner streak going since May. For work. Five days a week. No gaps. I even log during my WFH days so I can write it down in the planner that lives at work. That’s pretty amazing for someone who depends on sticky notes I won’t ever read again.
Applause? Yes. I am amazing. But more accurately? I am spiteful.
Let me explain.
If you’ve read my past chaos (hello, grad school meltdown and job trauma), you know I haven’t exactly had a thriving relationship with professional environments. Let’s just say I’ve met one too many managers who treated boundaries like suggestions and effort like a character flaw.
When I started my current job, I brought every jagged piece of that experience with me. I didn’t get magically better overnight—I’m still the same ADHD gremlin who can hyperfocus for hours or forget to eat lunch. I’ve always been like this. Half overachiever, half goblin. I inherited it.
But I also brought something new: the Legal Brief Planner.
The Legal Brief Planner
All my little spite demons out there will absolutely love this one. Basically, the reason behind me consistently using a planner for the last three months, is the idea of future me using it to prove someone a liar if they try to say I am lazy.
No, I’m not a lawyer. But I log my work like I might be called to court at any moment to defend my honor. Plus, I say I don’t like being right, which is mostly true. However, if someone is calling me or my work into question? Oh, it’s euphoric pulling up receipts to correct them.
I call it the Legal Brief Planner because it is, functionally, my paper trail. My receipts. My line of defense should anyone, ever again, question what I do all day.
You want to know if I completed that monthly report? Yes, and I logged how long it took, which parts I had to fix from someone else’s version, and that I did it while two coworkers were out.
You want to ask why something didn’t get done? Oh, was it the task I requested materials for three times and was denied? Logged.
I don’t think this will happen at my new job, but that’s the thing about trauma—you plan for the worst even while hoping for the best. Honestly, I didn’t even realize I was doing this at first.
And this planner? It gives me structure. A little power. A little peace. And yes, a bit of petty satisfaction.
Deranged Methods
What Goes Into the Legal Brief Planner?
Nothing is too small or insignificant. I log:
- Weekly recurring reports
- Emergency meetings (with time, topic, and my role)
- Tasks completed while under duress (aka anything)
- Time spent teaching someone something I wasn’t hired to teach
- Little notes like “actually wrote this email three times to make it sound less angry”
I use a basic five-day layout with daily task blocks, plus space for big tasks, accomplishments, and petty footnotes. It’s not fancy, but it’s consistent. That’s the key.
What I Don’t Log (But Maybe Should):
- Emotional damage from vague feedback
- Time lost staring into the void between meetings (or during)
- The microsecond I consider quitting daily
Why It Works for My Brain
There’s something about turning invisible effort into visible data that soothes the part of my brain always wondering: Did I do enough? Was that real?
My ADHD likes externalization. My anxiety likes proof. My burnout likes when I can look back and say, “See? You weren’t lazy. You were unsupported. Maybe you earned a rest day free of guilt.”
That last thought probably won’t ever happen, but a girl can dream.
And the part of me that’s still healing? She likes knowing I have her back next time things get messy.
Your (Un)Helpful Tip of the Day
I say this with all the love of a jaded employee who somehow still keeps going (bills, it’s bills):
Weaponize your planner.
Spite-track your tasks like you’re building a case against a future HR nightmare.
Be your own court stenographer.
Justice for your time.
And if all else fails? You’ll still have proof that you tried. Even if your only witness is the crumpled planner in your desk drawer.
—Your Life Sucks Girly
Your Life Sucks 