When Your Productivity System Becomes the Problem

The Workbook That Looked Perfect (On Paper)

I spent an embarrassing amount of time setting up what I thought was my ultimate system — my magnum opus of organisation. It had everything: reflection pages, habit trackers, goals, the works. It looked so professional I half-expected it to start giving TED Talks.

And honestly? It was lovely. For about two days.

Then Day Three happened.

It was heavy, awkward, and impossible to carry anywhere. Flicking back and forth between pages was a full-time sport, and every time I opened it, I felt like I was clocking into a job I didn’t apply for.

Instead of feeling organised, I just started feeling… guilty. Guilty for not keeping up with it, guilty for “wasting” the effort, guilty for proving I’m apparently allergic to consistency - yet again.

It looked amazing on paper. Literally. But it didn’t fit how my brain works. Too structured, too static, too serious. The workbook didn’t motivate me; it just sat there, silently judging me from the desk.

That’s when it clicked: the best system isn’t the prettiest one. It’s the one you’ll actually want to use.

When Systems Become Homework

The thing about the workbook wasn’t that it was bad - it was just too much. Too big to carry anywhere, too many sections, and far too many pages pretending to be helpful. Half the time I was writing the same thing twice, like some kind of underpaid admin assistant to my own brain.

It stopped being a tool and started feeling like homework. I had to remember where I’d left it, which page I was supposed to fill in, and whether I’d already written that thing in another section. By the time I’d found the right page, I’d lost the will to be organised at all.

And then came the guilt. Because of course, when I wasn’t using it, I was usually doing terrible things like spending time with my family or, heaven forbid, relaxing. Meanwhile, the workbook sat there on my desk like a disappointed headteacher, silently judging me for daring to have a weekend.

I felt guilty for not using it, frustrated that I’d wasted so much time setting it up, and mildly betrayed by my own enthusiasm. I’d hyped this thing up so much that even my kids wanted to make their own versions - and then I abandoned it after two days. Ten out of ten for commitment, as usual.

Still, after the guilt wore off, there was a huge sense of relief. Permission to let it go. Because no system should make you feel bad for actually living your life.

If anything, the whole thing taught me that we have a habit of overcomplicating systems in the name of “productivity.” We make them shiny and elaborate and then forget that we actually have to use them. My new setup is going to be the total opposite: simple, portable, and forgiving. A second brain I actually want to hang out with - not one that tells me off.

The Shift

There wasn’t a big dramatic moment where I threw my workbook across the room and declared myself free. It was more of a slow realisation - the kind that sneaks up on you while you’re watching other people’s notebook setup videos on YouTube and quietly thinking, “oh. That actually makes more sense.”.

It just clicked one day that what I needed wasn’t another “system.” I didn’t need more boxes, rules, or rituals - I needed something that felt light, flexible, and a bit more me. Something that didn’t require a desk, guilt, or a 10-step routine before writing in it.

And, most importantly, it had to be portable. Something I could toss in my bag or shove in a pocket - not leave gathering dust on my desk like a relic of good intentions.

That’s what I love about notebooks: they move with you. They’re small, forgiving, and somehow more human than any app or spreadsheet could ever be. A notebook doesn’t ping you or guilt-trip you - it just waits patiently until you’re ready.

If the workbook was like an overbearing manager, this new system feels more like a friend who shows up with coffee and says, “Let’s just figure it out together.”

If I had to sum it up in one line, it’d probably be this: I want productivity to feel like play, not detention.

A Little Reflection

Looking back, I think what I really wanted wasn’t organisation - it was control. The workbook gave me the illusion of it: tidy boxes, perfect routines, pages that promised structure and clarity. But control and calm aren’t the same thing.

The more I tried to manage myself, the less I actually wanted to do anything. It’s like trying to schedule spontaneity - the moment you write it down, it stops being spontaneous.

Maybe that’s just how my brain works, but I don’t think I’m alone in it. So many of us build these elaborate systems because we want to feel safe within the chaos. We want to believe that if we colour-code our goals and track our habits, life will behave. But life doesn’t work like that - and honestly, neither do we.

Peace doesn’t come from controlling everything - it comes from learning to flow with it. To make systems that bend instead of break. Ones that help you pay attention, not ones that make you feel like you’re behind.

So maybe the goal isn’t to “master” productivity at all. Maybe it’s just to make friends with it.

The Notebook System

So, after the Great Workbook Rebellion of 2025, I did what any reasonable person with ADHD and a stationery addiction would do: I made more notebooks. Lots more.

Before you picture some colour-coded, Pinterest-worthy setup, let me reassure you - this isn’t that. My system is more like a patchwork quilt of ideas, scribbles, and mildly organised chaos. But it works for me, and that’s the point.

I’ve got an A4 lined journal/diary that’s basically my brain’s main headquarters - the place where I ramble, plan, and occasionally talk to myself in full paragraphs. Then there’s my Leuchtturm pocket notebook, the little catch-all that lives in my bag and catches whatever thoughts fall out of my head before they vanish forever.

I keep two logbooks - one for movies and TV shows and another for books. Otherwise I immediately forget what I’ve watched or read. Goldfish memory for plots, apparently.

There’s an A4 ideas book where I brainstorm blog and video ideas, and a content-planning book where I map out what’s actually going live. I’ve also got a video-prompts notebook full of bullet points and cues to stop me from going completely off track when I’m talking to the camera.

Then there’s my commonplace book, which I absolutely love. It’s where I dump all the interesting things I learn - history, philosophy, minimalism, random quotes, everything. It’s my version of a personal Wikipedia - only prettier and less formal.

And finally, my favourite of the lot: Tiny Sparks.

Tiny Sparks is a tiny notebook with a big purpose - it’s my creative compass. It helps me stay connected to inspiration, to the feeling of being creative, not just the outcome. Each day I jot something small: a spark of motivation, a bright idea, a creative win, or something I’ve learned during my morning reading or meditation - often a takeaway from the Waking Up app. It’s not about productivity. It’s about keeping that inner pilot light burning.

It’s the most low-pressure notebook I own, and ironically, the one that keeps me most on track.

I’m also just starting to experiment with Field Notes - their small size and tactile feel make sense to me. I haven’t given them a proper trial run yet, but after binge-watching people absolutely fanboy over them on YouTube, I had to see what the fuss was about. They feel joyful to hold - here’s hoping that translates into actually using them.

I haven’t fully perfected this system yet, but that’s kind of the beauty of it. It’s evolving. It’s something I want to open, and that’s already a huge step up from the workbook that gave me performance anxiety.

So if you’re reading this thinking, that’s way too many notebooks - you’re probably right. But the fun of it is figuring out what works, and that’s the part I hope people take away from this. My setup might not suit you, but maybe it’ll spark some ideas. Try things. Tweak them. Make it yours.

Because sometimes the most productive thing you can do is just… enjoy the process.

Closing Thoughts

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this whole little saga, it’s that no system - no matter how pretty, polished, or promising - is universal. The perfect setup for one person can feel like pure chaos for another. And that’s fine. That’s how it should be.

We all work differently. Some of us thrive on structure; others, like me, need systems that sneak up on us gently - ones that make us feel free, not fenced in. I used to think “organised” meant colour-coded and perfectly aligned. Now I think it just means usable.

So if your brain laughs in the face of your latest planner, you’re not broken - you’re just learning what doesn’t work. And every failed attempt brings you a step closer to something that does.

Maybe the point isn’t to find the “perfect” productivity system at all. Maybe it’s just to build one that feels like home.

Because creativity should be creative - not a chore.