Are You Ready For June?

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I’ve been resetting things around my house.  After a long season of working on a big project, some things naturally fell through the cracks.  Today, I pulled out my planner, a notebook, my phone and decided to create some order for the season ahead.  As I looked ahead, I realized how much I’ve learned in the one I’m just coming out of. 

One of the biggest surprises for me was that if I give myself the gift of deep focus, I don’t just move things forward, I change what is possible.  I’d been stuck in a five minutes matter lifestyle. Do a little every day, and you’ll make progress.  In many seasons, this approach has helped, but there’s a tipping point.  I had so many things on my list that my days had become  five minute efforts in every direction.  I was trying to do everything, all the time, in tiny pieces.  It was exhausting.  I felt like I had 47 browser tabs open in my brain, and no matter how many I tried to close, more kept popping up.  I thought I’d created consistency.  I thought I was being responsible.  Truthfully?  I was scattered and I didn’t realize how deeply it affected me until I had a different experience.

During this last season, I had to do things differently.  I was working on my Master Coach Certification and part of that was doing a project.  My project was writing a book.  A whole book.  I knew that meant something about my schedule/planning had to change. I wasn’t going to be able to squeeze this in around the edges.  I also didn’t want to.  I had to carve out space.  I had to give it actual time, not just logistically, but emotionally mentally, and creatively.  While I’ve always used time blocks to get certain things done, I’ve never really used them on a project…well except maybe when I do my taxes, but ew…how did that slip in to this post? I gave myself permission, in my schedule to go all in by creating 90 minute blocks several times during the week.  I focused.

That focus didn’t just move the project forward, it moved me forward.  I slept better.  I used the phone less. I felt calmer more present.  I started my days well.  I also started them with a 90-minute focused writing block.  I gave my best time and my best energy to this project for 90 days.  I wasn’t trying to finish everything like I usually did. I was allowing myself to do this one thing well.  As I worked, as I made progress, I realized that I thrived on being able to focus.

The book is almost done and I’m planning my next quarter, my next season, I’m looking at all the things I put on pause to create this space.  It’s part to-do list items, projects, ideas, things I said I’d come back to “when I had time.”  I’m realizing I don’t want to let them all back in. 

I see time differently now. 

It’s a limited resource.  I knew this in theory, but I didn’t let it shape how I plan my days, and my weeks and so I also didn’t let it shape my life.  I was planning like time didn’t really matter, if I could just manage myself better, I could get it all done.  I made plans like I was living 48 hour days.  I added classes, podcasts, tasks, projects, books, all good things and things that did (maybe I should say could) matter.  I created a list that was so long, I never stood a chance of finishing them.   I’d put them on my list though, and so I felt responsible to them and for them, and this meant I was living in a constant state of overwhelm. 

I don’t know about you, but I have a complicated relationship with overwhelm.    Even though I’d never said it, my planning was rooted in the belief that if I could just be better, I could do it all, but I couldn’t.  No one could.  The problem for me was that that felt more like failure than reality.

Back to those 90-minute focus blocks.  They didn’t just help me make progress, they made life livable. They helped me see that not everything on my list deserves my time in this season.  They helped me treat my list not as a contract, but as menu.

And I can hear you saying, “But not every task takes 90 minutes.” And technically, that’s true, but here’s what my data shows.  Even little tasks cos me 90 minutes when I count the mental energy it takes to keep deciding whether to do them or not.  I’ve had a business card in my to do basket for well over two years.  I thought the service would be a good Christmas present.  Every single week, when I have gone through my basket, I’ve picked it up, looked at it and thought about whether I wanted to do it this week.  I wanted to do it, yes, but not this week.  I put it back in the basket again and again.  If that’s not 90 minutes of cumulative mental effort, I don’t know what is. The real cost isn’t just how long the task takes.  It’s also how long I carry it.  Asking myself, Do I have 90 minutes for this? is being honest.  It’s the only question that helped me finally put some things down.  

My old way, multitasking, cramming, and trying to keep up, was actually rooted in scarcity.  My list made me think I was living in abundance, but the list was about fear.  Fear I’d forget something important. Fear that if I didn’t say yes now, I’d lose my chance. Fear that I’d fall behind.  I said yes to too many things and created the reality that there wasn’t enough time. I created a systems that guaranteed I’d always be behind, which only deepened the belief that I had to work harder.  It was a loop.

Abundance feels so much differently.

Turns out, it feels like 90 minutes to focus. 90 minutes is long enough to make progress, to see it and to feel it.  I’ve lived it. I’ve felt it and I’m living in that shift.  I no longer believe I have to do everything right now.  I believe in honoring the season I’m in.  I believe in choosing what fits.  There’s clarity in that. There’s clarity in choosing less with intention. 

Now, I build my days around 90-minute blocks because those blocks create a boundary that help me live and a way that’s grounded.  If I only do two 90-minute blocks a day, I know I have done two of the most important things for this season. I’ve anchored my day and my actions around what matters and the rest will have to wait for its turn (or focus block).

I have a new lens to look at everything that I choose to do.  Is this worth 90 minutes of my time?  Not someday.  Not in theory.  Right now.  In this season.  In this real life.  That one question has helped me let go of so many things that no longer fit.  It’s hard to admit that I said yes to things that were never going to happen.  I even spent money on some of them, but it’s also freeing.  I’m no longer trying to do it all.  I’m asking better questions.  I’m making better choices. I’m holding space for the woman I’m becoming, not just the one who made the plan.

I used to think that keeping my word to myself meant finishing everything I started.  It didn’t matter if it no longer fit, if I had the energy, or the bandwidth.  What mattered was finishing. I’ve changed my mind, thank goodness.  Keeping my word to myself means honoring my time, my capacity, my calling, and my season.  That means that letting something go is part of my process.  Some might look at this as failure, but I think it’s wisdom.  I think it’s stewardship.  It’s deciding my time is too valuable to spend on expired ideas and outdated expectations.  If it doesn’t deserve 90 minutes, it probably doesn’t belong on my list.  And if it ever does again, I’ll know.

I love living in the chapter I’m actually in, not the one I planned 6 months ago.  I’ve cleared out the weeds of what I should do and prepped the soil of what I can do, which makes space for what’s next.  I’m excited to see what grows as I show up focused, alive, and present.

If you’re standing on the edge of your old lists, feeling the tug of guilt, but wanting more for yourself, try releasing something that no longer fits.  It’s wisdom.  It’s stewardship. It’s honoring your one precious life.

I’ll be cheering you on, as you make space for what matters and let go of what no longer does.