I’m standing at the stove cooking dinner and singing “Ding dong the witch is dead. Which old witch? The wicked witch…”
In my ongoing metamorphis to simplify and transfer list making to the Smartphone, I have been asking questions. What’s the best way to track my to-do lists? Are there some lists that are better handwritten?
Are there lists I don’t need?
And the last question sparked a revolution.
For years, I have kept track of how many hours I work each day and each week. This, in spite of the fact that I’m self employed. So I decided to abandon that list… to log only the hours for each individual client, but no totals.
At first, I felt like a rudderless ship. I was used to the pressure of performance and low grade anxiety dogged my days. Then I turned my focus toward only the next thing to do. Again and again starting, finishing, erasing from the list. Gradually, euphoria replaced fear and my energy multiplied. Freedom!
I had been reigning over myself like the most anal boss, micro manager extraordinaire, tyrant. Letting go of my time clock mentality was as good as throwing water on the wicked witch of the west. She melted.
Not without a fight though. On the fourth day of my delicious rebellion, the heavy hand attempted to squelch my enthusiasm. My day was quicksand and the more I resisted, the deeper I sank. Angst again.
Then I stopped struggling. I allowed the feeling of dread to hang out the in background, mumbling away as I walked gently through my have-to’s. I neither indulged it nor ignored it. And when the day ended, I understood that my bad boss meant well…was concerned for my welfare. She just needed some new methodology and proof that freedom could be depended upon to produce results. And did it?
The freer I felt, the more I wanted to work. Long days were suddenly not a problem because the oppression was gone along with the guilt and shame over “unproductive” days. Ironically, I was suddenly more productive. I felt like giggling because I was enjoying my jobs, grateful to have creative, well paying work. In fact, I felt like singing.
“Ding dong the wicked witch is dead. She’s gone where the goblins go….”