Corsets & Checklists

You've been avoiding the thing for days. Maybe weeks. You know what it is—it's sitting there on your list, making you feel guilty every time you see it and choose to do literally anything else instead. 🖤

You tell yourself you're lazy. Unmotivated. Self-sabotaging. You wonder why you can't just do the thing. Other people can just do things. What's wrong with you?

But here's what's probably happening based on my experience: you're not avoiding work.

You're maybe avoiding a specific feeling that you think doing the work will create. And until you name/acknowledge/own that feeling, you're going to keep scrolling instead.

Procrastination isn't a character flaw. It's your brain trying to tell you something about the task in front of you.

Maybe you're afraid it won't be good enough. Maybe you're afraid it will be good and then the stakes get higher. Maybe the task feels misaligned with what you actually want. Maybe you're just tired and your body is asking for a break.

The solution isn't to force yourself through the resistance. The solution is to name what you're actually avoiding.

Here's how to turn procrastination into useful information:

1. Name the task you're avoiding.

Write it down. Be specific. Not "work on the project" but "write the opening paragraph of the proposal."

2. Ask: What feeling am I trying to avoid?

Not what you think you should be afraid of. What are you actually trying not to feel? Inadequacy? Judgment? Boredom? Overwhelm? Name it as specifically as possible.

3. Test the fear.

Is this feeling actually likely to happen? If you write the paragraph badly, will you actually be judged, or is that a story you're telling yourself? Get specific about whether the fear is based on reality or prediction.

4. Decide if you actually need to do this.

Sometimes procrastination is your intuition telling you the task is misaligned. That it's not yours. That it doesn't serve you. If that's true, give yourself permission to remove it from your list entirely.

5. If you do need to do it: Make it smaller.

Fear thrives on bigness. Break the thing down into the smallest possible next step. Not "write the proposal." Just "open the document." Not even write anything. Just open it. Do that one micro-step. Then stop. The next step will come easier.

What Now

let someone else decide for once

choose the first option instead of researching for hours

not optimize every single choice

make decisions based on what's easiest, not what's best

eat the same thing every day if it means one less decision

have a default answer to everything

automate the small stuff so you have energy for what matters

not consider all possible options before choosing

make a "wrong" choice and adjust later

skip the pros and cons list and just pick something

be tired of deciding everything from scratch every day

decision fatigue is real and it will drain you faster than the actual work.

you don't have to treat every choice like it's life or death. most things are reversible. most things don't matter as much as you think they do.

sometimes "good enough" decided quickly is better than "perfect" decided never.

The Problem

You've read all the books. You've tried all the systems. You've optimized your morning routine, your sleep schedule, your diet, your workflow, your relationships. You track everything. You measure everything. You're constantly iterating, improving, upgrading.

And somehow, despite all this optimization, you're not happy. You're not fulfilled. You're just tired. And a little bit numb.

Because at some point, life stopped being something you lived and started being something you managed. And management is exhausting.

The Reframe (Permission)

What if the goal isn't to optimize your life? What if the goal is just to experience it?

You've been sold the lie that there's a perfect formula—the right routine, the right habits, the right mindset—and if you can just find it and execute it flawlessly, you'll finally feel good. But that's not how it works.

Life isn't a problem to solve. It's a thing to be in. And you can't optimize your way into joy.

The Framework

Here's how to stop managing and start living:

1. Identify what you're optimizing for. Is it actually for you? Or is it for some imaginary future version of you who's finally "enough"? Are you optimizing to feel good, or to prove something? Get honest about the real goal. If the answer is "I don't know anymore," that's your sign to stop.

2. Ask: What would I do if I couldn't measure it? You can't track joy. You can't quantify connection. You can't put "felt alive today" into a spreadsheet. So what would you do if the only metric was whether it felt good in the moment? Do more of that.

3. Give yourself permission to waste time. Do something with zero ROI. Read a book that won't make you smarter. Take a walk with no fitness goal. Have a conversation that goes nowhere. Let yourself be inefficient. Let yourself be human.

4. Stop iterating and just commit. You don't need a better system. You need to pick one and stop second-guessing it. The constant search for "better" is keeping you from actually being present in "good enough." Commit to something. Even if it's imperfect. Especially if it's imperfect.

5. Remember: you're not a project. You're a person. You don't need to be improved. You need to be cared for. And care doesn't look like optimization. It looks like rest, and pleasure, and doing things badly just because you want to.

Moving Forward

want connection and also need to be alone

love someone and also need distance from them

be confident and insecure at the same time

want structure and freedom simultaneously

be healing and still struggling

set boundaries and feel guilty about them

be independent and also need support

feel multiple conflicting things about the same situation

change your mind about what you need day to day

be strong and soft, disciplined and wild, serious and playful

not have a consistent personality across all contexts

you are not a character in a story. you don't need a clean arc.

human beings are contradictions. you can be all of it. you can want opposing things. you can feel every emotion in the same afternoon and none of it makes you unstable.

the need to be "consistent" is just another way you're trying to make yourself smaller and easier for other people to understand.

The Problem

You can't sit still. Even when you're exhausted, even when your body is begging you to stop, you find another task. Another thing to optimize. Another way to be useful.

Rest feels wrong. Selfish. Lazy. Like you're wasting time or letting people down. You tell yourself you'll rest when you've earned it—when the to-do list is done, when you've been productive enough, when you deserve it.

But the list is never done. You're never productive enough. And "deserving it" is a moving target that you never quite reach.

The Reframe (Permission)

You're waiting for external permission to rest that's never going to come. The culture isn't going to tell you it's okay to stop. Your to-do list isn't going to give you the all-clear. You have to give yourself permission.

Rest is not a reward for productivity. Rest is a requirement for functioning. You don't earn it. You need it. Those are not the same thing.

The Framework

Here's how to start building rest into your life as a non-negotiable:

1. Name what you believe about rest. Do you think rest is lazy? That you have to earn it? That productive people don't need as much? Write down the rule you're operating under. Then ask: who made this rule? Is it actually true, or is it just something you absorbed from hustle culture?

2. Start with 15 minutes. You don't have to overhaul your whole life. Just take 15 minutes today to do absolutely nothing useful. Set a timer. Sit. Breathe. Stare at the wall. See what happens. The world won't end. The work will still be there. You'll just be slightly less depleted when you return to it.

3. Treat rest like structure, not luxury. If you respond well to structure and accountability, apply that same energy to rest. Schedule it. Put it in your calendar like a meeting. Make it non-negotiable. You don't skip meetings because you "don't feel like it." Don't skip rest either.

4. Notice when you're performing productivity. Sometimes you're not actually working. You're just performing the appearance of working because stopping feels wrong. Notice when you're checking your email for the fifth time or reorganizing something that's already organized. That's not productivity. That's avoidance of rest disguised as work.

5. Practice saying "I'm done for today." Not "I'm done when X is finished" or "I'm done after one more thing." Just "I'm done." Out loud. To yourself. Practice making that a complete sentence that doesn't need justification.

Moving Forward

You missed a day. Or a week. Or a month. You had the plan, you set the intention, you were going to be consistent this time. And then life happened, or your brain happened, or you just didn't feel like it, and now the streak is broken.

So you spiral. You tell yourself you're undisciplined. Weak. That you always do this. That you'll never actually change. And because you've already failed, what's the point in starting again? Might as well wait until Monday. Or next month. Or next year when you're finally the kind of person who can stick to things.

The problem isn't that you lack discipline. The problem is that you've built a system where one mistake means total failure, and total failure means you don't deserve to try again.

What if missing a day didn't mean you failed? What if it just meant you're a person who exists in reality, where sometimes things don't go according to plan?

Discipline isn't about never breaking the streak. It's about coming back after you break it. It's about starting again on Tuesday even though you missed Monday. It's about treating yourself like someone you're actually trying to help, not someone you're trying to punish into submission.

You're not undisciplined. You're just being really mean to yourself, and that's not a strategy that works.

Here's how to rebuild your relationship to consistency:

1. Separate the behavior from your identity. You missed a day. That's a fact. It doesn't mean you're "the kind of person who can't stick to things." It means you're a person who missed a day. That's it. One data point. Not a character diagnosis.

2. Ask better questions. Instead of "Why am I like this?" ask "What got in the way?" Instead of "What's wrong with me?" ask "What do I need to adjust?" Turn self-judgment into problem-solving. The answer to shame is always curiosity.

3. Build a comeback protocol. Right now, when you fail, you spiral and quit. What if you had a plan for what to do instead? When you miss a day, your protocol is: notice it happened, do one small thing to re-engage, move on. No dramatics. No self-flagellation. Just: notice, adjust, continue.

4. Track comebacks, not streaks. Stop counting how many days in a row you did the thing. Start counting how many times you came back after breaking the streak. That's the real measure of discipline. Not perfection. Recovery.

5. Talk to yourself like you'd talk to a friend. You wouldn't tell a friend they're worthless because they missed one workout. You wouldn't tell someone you care about that they're a failure because they forgot to do something once. So why are you talking to yourself that way? Discipline built on cruelty doesn't last. Discipline built on respect does.

Moving Forward

want different things than you wanted last year

change your goals mid-pursuit

walk away from something you worked hard for

outgrow dreams that used to matter

admit that what you thought you wanted isn't actually what you want

stop defending old decisions to new versions of yourself

disappoint people who loved the old plan

pivot without justification

grieve the loss of who you thought you'd become

want something smaller, quieter, simpler than you used to

want something bigger, louder, more ambitious than before

you are not a brand. you don't owe anyone consistency.

the goals you set three years ago were made by someone who didn't know what you know now. you're allowed to let them go.

evolution isn't betrayal. changing isn't flaky. wanting different things is proof you're still alive and paying attention.

rest without earning it

be done for the day even though it's only 2pm

take a break before you hit the wall

sleep when you're tired instead of when it's "time"

do nothing without guilt

stop mid-task because you don't have it in you

have low-energy days without justifying them

cancel plans to protect your capacity

say "I can't do this right now" without explaining why

spend a whole day doing absolutely nothing useful

not bounce back as fast as you think you should

rest is not a reward for productivity. rest is a biological requirement.

you don't have to collapse from exhaustion before you're allowed to stop. you don't have to earn downtime by suffering first.

the grind culture lied to you. rest is productive. slowing down is strategic. doing nothing is sometimes the most important thing you can do.

The Problem

You woke up today and you're not leveling up. You're not crushing goals. You're not having breakthroughs or epiphanies or transformation moments. You're just... maintaining.

Doing the boring thing again. Showing up when there's no momentum. Keeping things from falling apart. Washing the same dishes. Having the same difficult conversation. Putting one foot in front of the other with no finish line in sight.

And it feels like you're not making progress. Like you're stuck. Like everyone else is moving forward and you're just treading water.

The Reframe (Permission)

Maintenance is progress. Staying steady is winning.

The culture lies to you constantly about what growth looks like. It tells you that progress should be visible, exciting, Instagram-worthy. It tells you that if you're not always ascending, you're failing.

But most of life isn't about the climb. Most of life is about not sliding backward. And that's harder than it looks.

The Framework

Here's what maintenance actually means:

1. Maintenance is the discipline no one photographs. Brushing your teeth isn't transformative. Going to therapy every week isn't glamorous. Paying your bills on time doesn't make for good content. But these are the things that keep your life from collapsing. And doing them consistently—especially when you don't feel like it—is the entire skill.

2. Maintenance means showing up when nothing is exciting. Motivation is a liar. Inspiration is fleeting. The real test is whether you can do the thing on Tuesday when it's boring and gray and there's no reward in sight. That's where character lives. Not in the big moments. In the unremarkable repetition.

3. Maintenance builds trust with yourself. Every time you show up for the small, boring task, you prove to yourself that you're reliable. That you keep your word. That you don't need fireworks to function. And that self-trust compounds over time into something unshakeable.

4. Maintenance gives you a floor to build from. You can't level up if you're constantly starting from zero. Maintenance keeps the baseline steady so that when you do have energy for growth, you're building on solid ground instead of rebuilding from rubble.

5. Maintenance is a radical act of self-respect. In a world that tells you to optimize, hustle, and always be improving, choosing to simply maintain what you've already built is rebellion. It says: I am enough as I am. I don't need to earn my existence through constant achievement. Staying steady is its own victory.

The CTA

The Problem

You've been avoiding the thing for days. Maybe weeks. You know what it is—it's sitting there on your list, staring at you, making you feel guilty every time you see it and choose to do literally anything else instead.

You tell yourself you're lazy. Unmotivated. Self-sabotaging. You wonder why you can't just do the thing. Other people can just do things. What's wrong with you?

But here's what's actually happening: some part of you doesn't feel safe doing the thing. And your procrastination is your nervous system's way of protecting you from something it perceives as a threat.

The Reframe (Permission)

Procrastination isn't a character flaw. It's information.

When you avoid something, your body is trying to tell you something. Maybe it's fear of failure. Maybe it's fear of success. Maybe it's that the task feels misaligned and your intuition is louder than your to-do list.

The solution isn't to force yourself through the resistance. The solution is to name what you're actually afraid of.

The Framework

Here's how to turn procrastination into useful information:

1. Name the task you're avoiding. Write it down. Be specific. Not "work on the project" but "write the first draft of the email to the client."

2. Ask: What am I actually afraid of here? Not what you think you should be afraid of. What are you actually, genuinely afraid of? Failure? Judgment? That you'll do it and it won't matter? That you'll do it and it will matter and then you'll have to keep going? Be honest.

3. Assess: Is this fear real or inherited? Sometimes the fear is legitimate—you're afraid because the stakes are real and the outcome matters. But often, the fear is borrowed. It's someone else's voice in your head. It's an old story about who you are and what you're capable of. Figure out which one it is.

4. Decide: Do I actually need to do this? Sometimes procrastination is your body's way of telling you that the task is misaligned. That it's not yours. That it doesn't serve you. And sometimes the bravest thing you can do is remove it from your list entirely.

5. If you do need to do it: Make the task smaller. Fear thrives on bigness. Break the thing down into the smallest possible next step. Not "write the email." Just "open the document." Not even write anything. Just open it. Do that one micro-step. Then stop. Celebrate. The next step will come easier.

The CTA

gentle reminder that you're allowed to:

disappoint people who had the wrong expectations of you

say no without explaining yourself

stop showing up for people who only want you when you're useful

outgrow friendships that don't grow with you

prioritize your needs over someone else's comfort

be unavailable without guilt

let people be mad at you

not fix other people's feelings about your choices

choose yourself even when it hurts someone else

set boundaries that make you the bad guy in their story

stop performing the version of you they fell in love with

disappointing others is the price of not disappointing yourself.

you can't make everyone happy and still be honest. choose honest.

"setting boundaries makes you selfish" is something said by people who benefit from you having none. your peace is not a group project.