Two years ago, a friend of mine mentioned how much she adored her custom daily planner. The only millennial I’d ever met who still uses a physical appointment book is Danielle, so I was surprised to find that my tech babe friend deliberately took herself offline every day to plan and record it. I was intrigued enough to try it so I ordered a semi-customizable planner for myself. Fifty-two weeks of doodles to fill in, stickers to place, half hours to schedule, habits to track, and notes to make arrived a few weeks into 2023.
As with most new projects, I was religious about filling it in at first.
Unlike most new projects, I kept filling it in. Then I filled in some more.
Before I knew it, the year was nearly over and I had filled in every day. I tracked how many glasses of water I drank, how many hours I worked, I wrote down what I had for dinner and even filled in evenings with large blocks labeled “Hyrule” or “nature shows” and even, sometimes, “dick all the way around.” At the end of the year, I went back and thumbed through it. It was revelatory.
You see, I struggle with feelings of inadequacy. I should work more, do more admin and marketing, exercise more, read more, socialize more, be… more… somehow. And without a good sense of what I was doing, all I could think about was how much I wasn’t. Learning French (faster). Learning to draw. Learning to play an instrument. Joining a choir. Volunteering. Building. Exercising.
Being able to look back and see how much I actually did, how often I worked on a project or got some middling task finished, how often I achieved the simple tasks of existence, and, crucially, how much farther along on larger goals I was than I had been months back, was a huge, freeing experience.
Every evening, I sit down and check off the tasks I completed. Then I fill in my mood and habit trackers. I look forward to the days ahead and try to plan how to use my time. Finally I add a line to my self-care journal, and if I’m feeling fancy I add stickers to celebrate or laugh at anything special or unusual. The planner came with several sheets and why not go through them? They’re fun!
I’m a few weeks into my third now, and, though I’m not quite as religious about it as I was, I still go in and fill the spaces with my daily minutia. It’s done the work of helping me feel less inadequate, so I’m not as religious about planning my days and checking things off, but I am happy to have the data, because one of my favorite things at the back is the year in review.
There is room at the end of the planner for a variety of optional pages. Daily gratitude journal, mood and habit tracker, workout tracker, doodles, sudoku, class schedule, maps, places to make lists of books, movies, or TV to watch, all kinds of things, including two pages full of prompts to review the past year and set intentions for the new one. As an acknowledgment that the future is impossible to predict, I only ever use pencil in my planner… except on these two pages.
Before I fill in the page, I write a long entry in my journal. I try to be as honest as possible, even when it’s not flattering. I roll the prompts around in my head and let the words spill onto the page. Sometimes where I land is far from where I started. I like it as an exercise, and by the time I’m done, I have good, comfortable, short answers to pen in.
Then I get to make plans. Something I want to do, things I want to learn, things I want to spend more, or less time or money on… things like that. I still journal about them, but it’s a more hopeful sort of journaling. Lots of plans and hopes, fewer mistakes. I don’t often spend as much time on it, because I’l be revisiting as the year churns by.
So far I’ve only had one opportunity to compare the coming year forecast to the past year retrospective. I didn’t opt for those pages in my first planner, so 2023 only got a reflection, not a prediction. But 2024 I got to start with Growth, Ease, and Power as my three words to describe my expectations and then end with Comfortable, Tough Talks, and Obstacle Course Racing! As my three words (generously defined) to describe the previous year. To see how my expectations were met in unexpected ways was one of many pleasures.
I think my favorite example of reassessing my strategies was my intention to bust my yarn stash. I know how to knit, and have completed some really cool projects. A huge, gorgeous fluffy blanket scarf, a variety of hats, some of which are still regularly worn, gloves (difficult, badly fitting, but lovely), half of a pillowcase for a sofa cushion… And I’ve always wanted to knit myself a cardigan. There’s a yarn store in my neighborhood and some of the fibers are irresistible. Simply stunning. Why buy a cashmere sweater when I can make one!?!
Well, because it’s hard, it takes forever, and it makes your hands hurt. Halfway through last year I realized that I simply wasn’t going to bust my stash in the traditional way. So I decided to shift tactics and bust it by gifting it to a friend who actually does fiber craft. Not often, not quickly, but consistently. I saved a few skeins back to maybe someday finish that pillowcase, but I gave up the part of my identity that said “knitter” and softened it to “knows how to knit.”
And that’s ok. Someday I’ll table the label “hiker” too, probably, in favor of “has really good boots.” It’ll make room for a different interest, which in turn will probably also make room for the next.
But that’s what the year end reflection is about! It’s to see how far I landed from where I thought I’d be, a reminder to redouble my efforts in some areas, a chance to abandon my plans in others. An opportunity to set lofty goals, knowing that sometimes close is close enough, and sometimes I’ll reach them through unconventional means.
So what did I write for 2025? Achievement, settling in, and experimentation. I’m excited. Optimistic, like I’m close enough to understanding myself to hack life. I want to hike the Wonderland Trail and do some end-of-life financial planning. I’ll be challenged to safely complete the Trail, and all the other hikes I’ve got planned before and after. I’ll also be challenged supporting my best friend as her partner struggles with a chronic, and worsening, illness. I want to learn to draw, to use a map and compass, to hammock camp, and to play the guitar. I look forward to lingering on my hikes, drinking in the views, and to Dragon Con in September. I want to spend more time meditating, drawing, practicing doing things with my left hand more, and reading. I want to spend both less and more money saving. I want to begin surrogate partner training, and I want to stop being tied to my phone so closely.
These are the results of hours of thought, and will be the subject of more as the year goes by. It’s only been nine weeks so far and I’m already making small progress. Added a few bits to a costume. Got an ultralight stove to camp with. Helped with a big move. And had not one but three “perfect weeks” where I did at least one each of a run, a weight lifting session, yoga, a hike, and a pull-ups drill.
I had a big weekend last week and got to fill in my days with “birthday dinner” and “cat sitting” and “naps”. This week it’ll be “Pilates” and “hike” and “work (DUO!)” and “Grocery Shopping”. And in six months I’ll wonder how I stayed busy when work was so slow, and I’ll flip back to see that I spent time with my friends, my books, my colleagues, and my self, all of which move me towards my goals.