Still in planner hell...

A while back I posted about putting off planning (read the post here). I had reached planning-hell where I had no time to think about what I wanted to do and so my projects to goals system was utterly broken. I didn’t know if I believed in my projects and so I didn’t believe that I should have any goals stemming from them (so didn’t). That then left space in my life to do other ‘stuff’ and then all that other ‘stuff’ filled up my time so much that I didn’t have any left to devote to thinking about my plans and projects.

I had hoped that nearly two months on, that I would have hauled my sorry ass out of that situation, but alas, I haven’t. However, instead of only filling my time with ‘stuff’ I am happy to say that I have (largely) been filling my time with writing. The upshot is that my book is almost written. The downside is that sod-all else is done: Christmas is upon us, letters are due to friends left, right and centre, I have a stack of stationery to review, I have a zillion things relating to writing to do, a squillion things relating to Chimwemwe to do, and still no time to do things because work (aka that hellish place that doesn’t understand the phrase ‘part-time’) has been overloading me like billy-o.

I know that I need to sit down, clear some head-space and have a really good think about things. I also know that I have to stop saying ‘yes’ to things, so that I actually have that space. And yet... the days flutter by and then yet another week has gone by and I’m exhausted from work and my weekly plans say things like ‘make opticians appt’ (which has been on the list for three weeks and is still not done) or ‘make quiches for Rotary ceilidh’ (bought from Tescos in the end). In my non-exhausted, managed-to-escape-from-purgatory-work times, I have been itching to write. And write. And write. And write. Which is good in many ways, don’t get me wrong! I have spent long enough having the space to write but no inspiration (another form of purgatory, believe me), which is why I have been writing as much as I can - I'm terrified the inspiration will dry up. But writing every minute that I have any time is perhaps not all that conducive to clearing other things, and this has left me pleased (as Punch) with the book, but equally annoyed with myself for not having done more.

Of course, all this being-exhausted-yet-still-thinking-you-should-have-achieved-more is just fantastic for keeping The Black Dog at bay.
Not.