But that wasn't on my list! (When life has other plans for you...)

Well, the ‘Get Sh*t Done’ tagline seems to be in the universe for me this week. 

 On my way to the gym (yes, somehow I’ve managed to fit in some exercise – before the kids wake up and after ensuring that the kids’ morning smoothie is pre-prepared, with several notes to be followed in my absence…) anyway, on my way I listened to a podcast with guest interviewee Dave Allen - author of the 2001 classic productivity and time management book ‘Getting Things Done’ (we all know what he really wanted to say instead of ‘Things’…).

 I’m a sucker for anything time-management or list focused, and this one seems right up my alley (lists – lots of them!!! All lovingly categorised to save that precious brain energy. Awesome! I’ve bought the book…). I think I’m allured by the possibility that I might, actually, get sh*t done and achieve something beyond merely surviving the day. Or perhaps it’s the desire (ok, need…) for control – that if I plan everything, things will go smoothly and life will be clam, effective and AMAZING. So, the lists are created and the day / week / month is planned. Feeling good. 

 And then, life happens.

 Instead of: getting a head-start on the big agreement I need to draft, progressing due diligence, inducting my new nanny into the routine, house and kids (because, let’s face it, time invested in this upfront saves us so much heartache later on. Sometimes tidying up the crap created by our home help is worse and more timing consuming than doing it ourselves… or is that just my control stuff coming up again?!) and having a few spare moments to tackle some tasks I’ve been wanting to do for months (ok years, but who’s counting) – instead of doing this, I’m…. at the hospital discussing emergency surgery on my daughter’s arm, then sleeping at the hospital (thank you for the fold-out bed – but I wish it didn’t feel like wood, I think my hips are still recovering), I’m watching kids movies and caring for my daughter who, funnily enough, can’t go to the soccer and gymnastics camps she was booked into. Actually, she can’t leave the house because of the severe swelling and required elevation. I’m sleeping like a mum with a new born whilst I administer pain-killers every two hours and sleep with my 7 y/o boy (he needed some love and attention too) on the trundle in my daughter’s room.

 Funnily enough, NOTHING of what I wanted to get done was achieved. And I was frustrated, annoyed, angry, relieved (that my daughter’s arm was going to mend well) and lamenting my lost time.   

 What are my lessons? Well, I’m not going to throw out my diary and lists, because these are necessary for ensuring a clear and focused mind (it turns out my love of lists – well organised, get sh*t done, lists – is founded in neurological science. Our brain needs to be saved by the distraction of recalling the stuff that we need to do, and then ruminate over – or trying to remember that awesome idea for a new blog post. We simply can’t operate at peak, or passing, performance, if we don’t clear our mind by externalising those thoughts onto ‘paper’ (or an app, or two)). BUT, as the compassion mindfulness teacher, Jon Kabat-Zinn, so eloquently puts it “Life Sucks. Everything Changes. Don’t take it personally.” In other words, suffering (as well as amazing joyfulness) is part of life. It just happens. Trying to control every aspect of our lives to avoid any discomfort is bound to fail. It’s impossible. And much of our suffering is generated by a misguided belief that we can avoid discomfort. The lists work. But they’ll never stop life from happening. So leave some space for kindness and acceptance when the inevitable stuff happens that you can’t control or plan for. Take a breath. Acknowledge it’s not great – you don’t have to sugar coat it and pretend it hasn’t affected you. But also know that it will pass, the goals can be recreated (there’s nothing like writing a new list and plan) and the joy returns, maybe even better than before.

 So, be kind to yourself, write a list, accept the inevitable left-field blinders, and then get sh*t done.

(Oh, and maybe say a little serenity prayer: May I have the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference.)