i have a complicated relationship with to-do lists.

i didn’t discover to-do lists until i was 20 years old. a friend of mine, who was my roommate at that time, was fantastic at being effective with to-do lists.

as is typical of the way i learn, there was never a moment, never a lesson, never a time when i said, “okay, charlotte, teach me about this to-do list thing so i can implement it at once”.

instead, i observed, over that year we lived together, her to-do list habits. i asked occasional questions. “do you have to do the things in order?” “do you make one every day?” “do you always have to cross off all the stuff?”

charlotte is a good teacher. a very, very good teacher for learners like me. she would answer my questions with short, casual, concise answers. she didn’t preach or expound. she provided the information sought and left it at that, trusting that i could and would determine exactly what other information i might need and when, and ask another question when the time was right.

and so my introduction to to-do lists was gently, gradually born. i played with the concept. i played with the format. i played with the execution. and, eventually, i had honed a skill, and became a daily to-do-lister.

and a to-do-lister i remained, until i began recovering.

during the first two months of recovery, i didn’t need a to-do list. it wouldn’t have contained any tasks other than breathe, eat, sleep, go to therapy, don’t die.

sometime in months three or four, however, i started feeling more able to do things–not many, but a few–other than surviving and going to therapy. along with the ability was interest. i was interested in doing things for the first time in a long time. much of my time was still earmarked for eat-sleep-don’t-die, but, some days, i had a little bit of myself left over for something else.

but what?

i decided it was time to brush off my to-do-listing. the to-do list tool had always helped me organize my tasks in the past. it had given me focus, direction. it had grounded me and helped me to be my most productive self. with pen in hand, i readied myself for my inaugural recovery to-do list.

and…nothing. i couldn’t do it. something in me resisted. hard. i didn’t know what or why.

i know now something i didn’t know then: one of the gifts of recovery is that you get a gut instinct you can trust. i’d always had a gut instinct, a strong one. but i’d never been able to trust it. it was not a trustworthy gut instinct. it was diluted by codependency and trauma responses and ruled by triggers. my gut instinct, pre-recovery, provided a lot of misinformation.

in that moment, however, my recovery gut told me to put the pen down, and i unquestioningly listened. next, my recovery gut said, “do what you are moved to do. the important things will get done.” again, i unquestioningly listened.

and so, this became my modus operandi. i discovered that sometimes i was actually moved to do housework. sometimes i was moved to read philosophy for hours on end. sometimes i was moved to be outside. sometimes i was moved to learn a new skill. for a couple of months in early recovery, i was moved nearly every day to bake. i baked and baked and baked, pawning off cakes and muffins and scones and bars and cookies on anyone who would take them.

some days i felt moved to make a to-do list, but every time i readied myself to do so, i felt moved to resist. i was confused by this. why the back and forth? how could i be so moved to do something over and over, and then, every time, at the last minute, be so moved to halt and shift direction? my recovery gut said, “you don’t need to understand this right now. you will understand it when the time is right. for now, just listen.”

okay, recovery gut. i’ll hear you out.

i did this hearing out faithfully and abstained from to-do listing.

then, one day, fully six months after i’d begun the confusing to-do-list-or-not-to-do-list dance, i saw this entry in a blog i read sometimes:

achieving, via zenhabits.

my recovery gut said, “well, see? there you go.”

i’m not trying to make a case against to-do lists. my friend charlotte still uses them and is seriously one one the happiest, most functional people i know.

but for folks like me, folks whose daily trajectory is muddled by things like perceived outside expectations, and abuse by authority figures, and major anxiety and guilt related to our doings, there is a recovery gold mine available in giving up the to-do list and doing instead what you are moved to do. really, the important stuff will get done. that is, the stuff that is important to you. intrinsic motivation is powerful and wonderful to feel and answer.

the stuff you just can’t make time for? well, now you know that it doesn’t matter very much to you at this time. and that’s fine.

what if it does matter? well, if you’re consistently neglecting things that really matter to you in favor of other things that matter less, you have some serious work to do. i don’t think there’s any way to happiness in that scenario.

just in the past couple of weeks, i’ve reinstated a to-do list of sorts. it’s an oversized post it note near my computer. i don’t check things off. it’s not a list of today’s tasks. it’s a short list of projects or ideas i am feeling interested in devoting time and energy to in the near future.

right now, my list is this:

seed bomb workshop
tantra
seed starting and garden calendar
making soap molds
love letter basket

i also have a list in my mind, which is more a set of reminders for myself. because i’m doing so much work with greif and sorrow right now, that list is, more or less:

be gentle
rest
seek balance
go slow
accept
spend time with people you love, especially the kids

in recovery, these are the only guides i need. and if i go off track, or if i need more, my recovery gut will let me know.