Glow by Lady E

For years, I  had this strange tendency to make things harder than they need to be. If I can do something from scratch, shouldn’t I? (I was possessed by Bree Van De Kamp 😑) If I could spend another hour making it better, shouldn’t I? If there’s a more difficult way to accomplish something, surely that must be the more legitimate way. Except… why? I’ve been paying more attention lately to the little systems that make my life easier. Tools that save me steps. Supplies kept where I actually use them. Doing several similar tasks together instead of constantly switching gears. (Very useful in the atelier.) Using something that’s already made instead of insisting that I create every single component myself. Choosing the easier method simply because it is easier . (Hello, Eggo!) None of that makes the result less valuable. Efficiency isn’t a moral failure. Convenience isn’t laziness. And struggling unnecessarily doesn’t make the work more worthy. Sometimes the smartest th...

I used to look at everything I needed to do and quietly make one ridiculous assumption: It should all be finished today. The writing. The orders. The house. The errands. The messages. The ideas I suddenly decided were urgent simply because I had them. And if I reached the end of the day with unfinished things? Somehow, the unfinished things felt louder than everything I had actually accomplished. I’ve been trying to unlearn that. Not everything on my list belongs to today. Some things belong to tomorrow. Some belong to next week. Some can wait until I have more energy, more information, or simply more room in my life. That doesn’t mean I’m procrastinating. It means I’m finally learning to distinguish between having things to do and having to do everything now . I’ve also noticed something strange. When I stop demanding that I finish everything, I often get more done. It’s true!  I noticed this one night when I was at my desk, reviewing my day.  There is less frant...

  I’ve learned something about myself: organization and productivity are deeply connected. When my things are scattered, my thoughts tend to scatter with them. Before I can begin doing something, I have to find the right notebook. Then the right pen. Then the notes I wrote somewhere. Then perhaps the stickers I wanted to use. By the time I’ve assembled everything, the little spark that made me want to begin in the first place may already be wandering off somewhere else. So I started creating organizers for different parts of my life . I have a small one for my Glow and Eats notes. Another is for journaling. Another holds what I need for business and strategizing. Each one has its own notebooks and carefully chosen supplies. And something rather lovely happens when I take one out. I open it, and I begin. Everything I Need Is Already Here There’s very little negotiation required. If I’m working on Glow, I take out that organizer. If I want to journal, I reach for another. If it’s tim...