Every plan is a coping mechanism in disguise.
We write it down because it makes it feel real.
We color-code it because it makes it feel safe.
We turn it into a system because systems look like certainty.
And then we build a new one.
And another one.
And another one.
Not because we’re lazy or scattered or bad at follow-through—but because no plan, no matter how well-intentioned, can outrun the panic that lives in the absence of proof.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve scrapped a content calendar and started fresh—convinced that if I could just organize my brain better, I’d finally feel more grounded. As if clarity was one more Notion template away.
Sometimes I wonder how many hours I’ve spent replanning the life I’m already living.
Tweaking systems instead of trusting myself.
Redesigning infrastructure that was never the problem.
Rewriting goals not because they were wrong—but because I was scared they wouldn’t happen fast enough to make me feel safe inside them.
We don’t want direction. We want a guarantee.
And we’ll rewrite the map a thousand times if it makes us feel like we won’t lose the way.
But here’s the problem with maps:
They’re only helpful if you already believe you’re going somewhere worth arriving.
And most of us? We don’t trust that yet.
Not fully. Not deeply. Not when it’s quiet and things aren’t working.
So we over-plan instead of learning to believe in ourselves mid-fail.
We strategize instead of surrender.
We perfect the plan instead of strengthening the person.
But confidence isn’t found in a spreadsheet.
It’s found in the space after everything stops working—and you keep going anyway.
The planning is not the problem. It’s what we expect it to protect us from.
We don’t want the plan—we want the plan to promise us it will all be worth it.
That we’re not wasting time. That we won’t be embarrassed. That we’re doing it “right.”
But those are faith problems, not process problems.
And for those of us who are neurodivergent?
There’s an added layer of grief in realizing no neurotypical system is going to save us either.
I spent years convinced I just hadn’t found the right productivity framework, the right app, the right routine. I believed there had to be an answer out there that would finally make everything feel easy—or at least manageable. But that search only ever made me feel more broken when nothing worked.
Eventually, I had to stop chasing structure and start cultivating self-trust.
I had to believe I could feel successful without doing it the “right” way.
That I could feel satisfied even if my days didn’t look like everyone else’s.
That I could be enough—even in the mess.
(We’ll go deeper into that in a later post.)
If you don’t trust yourself, no plan will ever feel like enough.
You’ll keep tweaking it, adjusting it, rebranding it, restarting it—
hoping that the new version will finally make you believe in your own success.
But belief doesn’t come from certainty. It comes from devotion.
From doing the thing without a timestamp.
From deciding you’re still going to show up—even if it takes longer than you wanted,
even if no one else claps for it,
even if the metrics don’t match the magic you feel in your gut.
I used to think I just hadn’t found the right system.
That if I could just unlock the right flowchart or structure or strategy, I’d feel unstoppable.
But the truth was—every system I built was a way to avoid asking the real question:
Do I trust myself to keep going even when no one is watching?
It’s terrifying to admit that no amount of planning can save us from the messiness of becoming.
But it’s also the most liberating thing you’ll ever remember.
Because once you stop trying to control it all—you can actually live it.
And you might just find that the direction was never in the plan.
It was always in you.
What does it all mean though?
You can spend your whole life rebuilding the infrastructure.
Or you can start building the relationship with yourself that keeps showing up even when the plan falls apart.
Self-trust isn’t a system. It’s a decision.
And the more you make it, the more direction you’ll find—even when nothing makes sense yet.
Personal Note:
I hit over 300 subscribers this past week and my heart honestly felt like it was going to explode with gratitude and honor.
I never understood the whole, “cool kids are non-chalant about success” deal. Like we should act as though we already expected it and continue on as if we aren’t floating on a cloud of self-assurance and validation. Because let’s be honest— everyone is.
I love writing, and I love people— yes, I know that statement holds conflict, and I’m okay with that. I also believe in my ability and my heart. I don’t think any of that can be or should be measured in metrics so I don’t bother trying, I measure everything I do in the amount of chalant I feel about what I’m trying to convey and most of the time it’s full chalant.
I don’t do non-chalant, so with my thanks and love, I’m not starting now. Thank you.
I hope that you know what ever you’re creating or thinking of creating it matters. Don’t shrink it if you don’t want to, be the lighthouse that calls people home.
to the brave thing,
Thank you for reading 🤍
If you feel compelled to support my work, I would absolutely fall over.
And on another fun announcement, I have a new podcast coming out eventually titled “Chronically Over It” and here is the best description I got for what it’s about:
This isn’t a podcast about getting your life together.
It’s a podcast about getting honest about what that even means.
Chronically Over It is for the multi-hyphenate humans who are tired of curated healing, productivity porn, and all the rules that were never made for us in the first place. Hosted by Cait—a recovering ambitionist who’s built (and burned down) her identity more times than she can count—this show is part personal reckoning, part perspective shift.
No aesthetic healing journey.
No curated content.
No “just be consistent” BS.
This is where self-help meets self-trust.
Where the mess gets to matter.
And where becoming who you are isn’t a destination—it’s the whole damn point.
Think what I share here but a little more off-the-cuff and obviously unedited.
Subscribe (if you’re not already) so you know when it’s going live.
"Self-trust isn’t a system. It’s a decision." Love that.
I love this take. Yes, I have loose plans and goals, but I find life so much easier when I hand over the outcome. I put in the action, and leave the results up to my higher power, the universe, etc. Also, congrats on your growth!