I make lists.

Not just grocery lists, my friend.

I’m talking master lists, sub-lists, color-coded breakdowns, hypothetical emergency lists, and “I’m spiraling so here’s 43 things I can control” lists.

And while this lifestyle has its perks, it also has its moments where I look in the mirror and think,

“Am I okay?”

Let’s break it down.

The Good

Let’s be honest. Lists can be life-saving.

They give your brain a place to dump everything that’s swirling around like a tornado made of mental tabs. They make overwhelming tasks feel bite-sized. They keep you on track (most days). They reduce anxiety and decision fatigue (because dinner is on the dang list).

Sometimes the only reason I can function like a semi-productive human being is because a notepad told me to.

Nothing beats that sweet little dopamine hit when I cross something off.

Even if it’s something I already did and wrote down just for the joy of checking it off.

“Wake up?” Check.

The Bad

But let’s not pretend it’s always sunshine and checkmarks.

Lists can also:

Make you feel like a failure if you didn’t cross off enough. Turn toxic when they become unrealistic expectations disguised as “productivity.” Distract you from actually doing the task because you’re busy… tyring to figure out the app or categories. Become overwhelming when you start stacking them like nesting dolls of stress.

Oh and let’s not forget:

The moment you realize you’ve written the same “to-do” item for six days in a row and still haven’t done it.

Now it’s not just a chore. It’s a personal insult. A ghost haunting you from the margin.

The Ugly

And then we hit peak list-life crisis.

When you’re paralyzed by the sheer number of lists you’ve made. When your day feels pointless if you don’t write something down. When you plan the day down to 15-minute increments and forget to schedule… breathing. When you spiral and create a list of lists to make tomorrow to avoid the stuff you should’ve done today.

Let’s just say it:

Lists can become a coping mechanism.

They feel like control. And sometimes that’s exactly what I need.

But other times, they become a trap.

A place where I measure my worth by my productivity.

That’s when I know I need to rip up the list, take a breath, and go outside. Or at least lay face-down in bed while.

So what’s the takeaway?

Lists are powerful. They can help. They can harm. They can totally derail you if you let them run the show.

But used with balance?

They’re magic.

So yeah, my husband teases me about my endless list obsession.

But I’d rather be a little overprepared than flying through life with no idea what I was supposed to do today. (And yes, we did forget to thaw the chicken. It was on the list, I swear.)