How to Get Your Life Together (Or at Least Pretend Like You Have)
Written on February 26th, 2025 by Vasti Tait
Ah, adulthood—the thrilling adventure of trying to survive without blowing your entire paycheck on impulse purchases, convincing yourself that hitting snooze just one more time won’t ruin your morning, and desperately clinging to a “routine” that mostly involves making coffee and hoping for the best.
But fear not! With a little budgeting (no, you don’t need another fancy planner), the courage to actually get out of bed on the first alarm (okay, maybe the second), and a solid morning routine (brushing your teeth counts, right?), you might just fool people into thinking you have your life together.
Of course, self-improvement isn’t all work—there’s always time for a strategically planned Netflix break. Just make sure your “one episode” doesn’t turn into an accidental three-hour binge. Meanwhile, confronting your shadow self (a.k.a. the version of you who hoards receipts for no reason and eats shredded cheese straight from the bag) is key to personal growth. And lastly, don’t forget boundaries! Because nothing ruins progress like letting someone guilt you into plans when all you wanted was a peaceful night of doing absolutely nothing.
“You are more powerful than you know; you are beautiful just as you are.” — Melissa Etheridge
Sticking to a budget is something I’ve always found quite impossible. I really like to set up budgets. Another one of my specialties is setting up better routines for optimized time management. Time is as much a commodity to me than finances are. I have unfortunately mastered neither. Not even color coding the routines and budgets helped me apply my beautifully set out plans. A rare gem that compliments these commodities is boundary setting. Also, not really something I can add to my repertoire. Tough as these three pillars may be to overcome, I will bounce back with each sunrise… ready to slay the dragons!
I once saw an interview with a motivational speaker that explained why the start of your day dictated the outcome of all the opportunities presented to you that day. She explained how snoozing your alarm is detrimental to the start of your day. Her solution was a countdown to physically getting out of bed, like a rocket’s countdown to lift off. The magic ingredient was to not give yourself a choice between getting up and snoozing that alarm. When my different alarms go off, I feel like I’ve just entered Mordor. Like I’m jolted from a peaceful slumber by the sounds of the Sodomites approaching. I absolutely hate waking up. I never sleep enough. I aim to get to bed by nine. Since I don’t stick to the dedicated time slots to achieve all my goals, the goal post keeps moving and the achievement part starts to look like a pipe dream.
After snoozing the alarm for a ridiculous amount of time, I usually drag myself out of bed to bake bread for the school lunchboxes. When your Shopper points are all used up and the crypto wallet shows a big fat “O”, baking bread is your only option. This is also not your Martha Stewart moment with an apron on, perfect hair and make-up and a chirpy attitude to wake up the ungrateful offspring you are struggling to rear on a good day. I’ll paint the real picture. As beautiful as the abstract 1950’s housewife ideal is, mine is a stressed out, modern version of a woman fed up with operating in the required male energy that our economical state requires of the modern mom and wife.
It’s a rare occasion to see me dressed in pajamas, a gown and slippers. What the children see instead is an overgrown T-shirt with mismatch trackpants and a Cruella Deville hairdo. After she pushed her fingers into the electric socket and gave it a static flair. The whole morning is usually a bugger up. It’s a circus of a different kind. It’s a blurry picture of traffic, as everyone approaches the breakfast table. The next commute is to brush teeth where the start of the morning minor wars commences. Increased noise levels, microwave style bread baking and barks to get to the car ‘now!’ is complimented by a good old reprimand session in the commute to school lift club. Followed by tears and exhaustion in my own silent battle through traffic to my first job for the day.
I use each admin lesson at my primary job, my calling if you will, to binge on Netflix. As a language, art and drama teacher, I’m grateful for small miracles in life like free lessons and school holidays. What I should be doing these lovely roster gaps, is working on my translations. I translate telenovelas for a well-known production company as my secondary source of income. The frustrating reality is that procrastination wins. Every time. The more pressure I experience at any workspace, the more I slow down. I tend to focus on mastering the art of doing as little as possible while appearing to be extremely productive. It’s a horrible flaw and this is sadly a trait that my shadow-self adopted. Another conquest on this rocky journey.
“The journey to happiness begins with self-acceptance.” — Diane von Fürstenberg
Awareness is key and I’m starting to unlock the hidden doors. Seeing myself a little clearer each day is somewhat mortifying. Facing your demons and highlighting the defects for an informed plan of action can be a rude awakening. You might find a wild soul who is raw, scarred and undeniably flawed. You might also find a warrior, a peacekeeper or a hunter willing to sacrifice for provision. Tapping into the shadow side of the feminine is mind-altering. My A-stigmatism is correctly diagnosed, and the newly prescribed lenses have a coating that allows only a certain amount of blue light in. Less stimulation, less mental agitation. If the surroundings change ever so slightly, a whole new picture is created.
Facing my shadow side is the new picture. The one without filters. The real me. Getting tested and ordering new prescription lenses, only to find out my medical scam covers one family member every 24 months was indeed a bummer. The timing of the new lenses and my shifted point of view beautifully collided on the plus side. I had to use this metaphorically. A consequence I’m facing for not applying RTFM to my life, is the arrangement to pay off the new lenses over three months. My dad used this reference often when valiantly trying to steer me in the right direction as a young adult. The PG version of this acronym is ‘Read the Freaking Manual’. My dad’s version was a little more colorful.
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Boundaries are a hot, sticky mess for me. For the lucky few who were taught boundaries from a young age, I hope you count your blessings. I know very few people with healthy boundaries. My husband falls under the fortunate, boundary loving section. He is rare find, a real-life unicorn. Most of my friends were taught that boundaries were a selfish act and that a young lady should be selfless and supportive. Others were taught that the only survival tool is the Great Wall of China you build around yourself. Neither of these perspectives are healthy.
I’ve learned of the value and sacredness of your body as a temple for your soul. I have learned of the importance of protecting what you value. I have been prepared to face rejection from those who never intended to be respectfully involved in my life. These people are generally the reason why boundaries are now being established in the first place. I am what feels like light years away from achieving solid boundaries in my own relationships. What helps is the support I get from my husband, children and friends. I get to test and practice different boundaries with those closest to me. Every now and then, I even say no to strangers in public. The more I try it, the easier my ‘no’ rolls from my tongue. I’m still so far from my highest self and yet I’m already so far away from my lowest self. I am grateful for my previous versions of self for carrying me through the battlefield this far.
And there you have it—your not-so-foolproof guide to sort of getting your life together! Sure, there may still be days when your budget cries, your alarm mocks you, and your “quick Netflix break” turns into an unplanned documentary marathon. But with a little discipline (and maybe some coffee), you’re well on your way to mastering adulthood—one well-placed boundary and begrudgingly responsible decision at a time.
Of course, this is just the beginning! Maybe next time, we’ll tackle the art of meal prepping without losing your sanity, the science of actually folding laundry right away, or the mystery of why your to-do list only seems to grow. Until then, go forth and fake it ‘til you make it!