Opening Scene:
There’s a moment that every neurodivergent person knows too well: standing
in the planner aisle, holding a glossy hardcover that promises to change
your life. “This is the one,” you think, fingers brushing over its
perfectly spaced lines and color-coded sections. This time, you’ll stick to
it. This time, everything will fall into place.
It never does.
By the second week, the planner is abandoned, half-filled with jagged
to-do lists and a single coffee stain. What no one tells you in the
stationary aisle is that no planner—no app, no perfect tool—can tame a brain
that thrives in chaos.
The Lie of Linear Productivity
The world loves linearity. It wants goals written in neat columns, broken
into actionable steps, checked off one by one. It assumes that focus is a
straight path, that everyone’s mind works the same way. For those of us
whose thoughts move more like pinballs—scattered, frenetic, colliding in
bursts of light—this framework feels like a trap.
The myth of the perfect planner isn’t really about the planner. It’s about
the pressure to conform, to force neurodivergent brains into neurotypical
systems. It’s about believing there’s a single “right” way to be
productive, and that if you can’t figure it out, you’ve failed.
What Actually Works?
Here’s the truth: no tool will work unless it works for you. The
key isn’t finding the perfect system; it’s creating one that respects how
your mind actually works.
- Ditch the Guilt: If traditional planners don’t work, they’re not meant for you. That’s okay.
- Think in Bursts: Use tools like time-blocking or the Pomodoro Technique to lean into short periods of focus.
- Capture the Chaos: Keep a catch-all notebook or digital app where you can dump thoughts without judgment.
- Celebrate Small Wins: Focus less on completing a massive to-do list and more on the tiny victories—email sent, laundry folded, brain intact.
Learning to Work With Your Brain
Somewhere along the way, I stopped trying to fix my brain and started
working with it instead. The joy of ADHD, the beauty of being
neurodivergent, is that the chaos isn’t just noise. It’s where the
creativity lives. It’s where the ideas that no one else thought of are born.
So, no, I’ll probably never find the perfect planner. And that’s fine.
I’ve got a notebook full of coffee stains and scribbles that makes sense to
exactly one person: me. And isn’t that the whole point?
Perfection isn’t the goal. The goal is to keep moving, to find joy in the mess, and to create something beautiful out of the tangle.