I was too young. Then I was too old.
Apparently, there was never going to be a perfect time.
It started in kindergarten with the new crayon box my mom gave me for each upcoming school year. I would always keep those crayons organized in their original, darkest to lightest, rainbow color order. When I was old enough to graduate from the 12-crayon box to the 64-crayon box with the built-in sharpener, I made sure those crayons weren’t just organized but sharpened as well.
Fast forward to being a mother and I’d download the district calendar before the school year started, making sure to get all the holidays and “no school” days marked in my computer calendar for the entire year. When my three children were at three different schools with three separate activity schedules, I’d make sure they were each color-coded to differentiate them on the calendar.
This need to organize and categorize my life has been with me as long as I can remember. But nothing ever fed it like the computer spreadsheet.
At my first job out of college, working for a local tech company, they didn't have quite enough work for me to fill the hours, so I’d spend my downtime teaching myself the newly released-to-the-world technology called Microsoft Excel. The ability to enter the information and then sort it with a few clicks of a mouse was incredible to someone who had always relied on the long and narrow Pendaflex sorter to do the same job by hand.
Soon, everything in my life was being spreadsheeted: budgets, to-do lists, camping lists, client projects, books, plants, travel itineraries. And of course, all those five-year, ten-year, and bucket list goals I had for myself.
There was no end to the spreadsheets.
But I noticed over time that while yes, the work, family, and home tasks got checked off the spreadsheets, many of the ones I’d set for myself…I would set aside. I'd take care of something else first and think, I'll get back to mine later.
Occasionally, I'd look at that bucket list spreadsheet and I'd watch it grow row by row by row, year after year. And when I’d try to get back to it, I’d hear myself say, You should have done this when you were younger. You're too old now. You don't have enough energy. You still don't know enough.
And then I'd find myself abandoning a perfectly good plan for something else that sounded better. And round and round I would go, gathering ideas, putting them in spreadsheets, making a plan, but never quite taking action on them.
And the ironic thing is, when I was younger, I would often find myself saying, You're too young. You don't know enough. Wait until you’re older.
Maybe it’s all those years of school calendars, but the start of the school year has always felt more like New Year’s to me than January 1st. September 1st is when I start the planning for the upcoming year.
Last fall, I took my spreadsheet of Good. Begin Again. ideasthat I pulled from my Blue Binder (which I wrote about last week) and I laid them out in a five-year color-coded project timeline. (Specifically in Asana because “color-coded,” but a legal pad and highlighters could have worked just as well.)
On January 18, 2026, I took the first step toward actually checking things off that plan. I launched Good. Begin Again. and I’ve shown up here every Sunday ever since.
So now I’m checking off another box: posting more on social media, specifically videos. Some people enjoy reading. Some people enjoy watching.
But as I add new ways to share my stories, this newsletter will remain the heart of Good. Begin Again. Everything else will grow out from here. All new writing and any important announcements will always come here to you first.
I know not everyone enjoys social media or has an account, and if that’s you, you don’t need to go anywhere.
When I make a video I think would be worth sharing with everyone, I'll link to it at the bottom of the newsletter in case you'd like to watch. There’s one down there today. Sometimes it’s nice to put a face to a story.
I've lived enough of life to know that even the most detailed project plan doesn't always go the way you want it to.
But I also know it doesn’t have a chance if I don't try. If I don't check off even a fraction of those tasks.
And honestly, even with all the detailed planning and the color-coded calendar, I would not have made it this far without you.
Without you reading along each week. Without the thoughtful feedback encouraging me to keep going.
I know every story won’t speak to every person. But I hope that, more often than not, something I share helps you see something in your own life a little differently.
Thank you for being with me as I head down this uncertain path that I’ve laid out with such certainty. I am so grateful for you.
And as I move forward with this next step and my mind tries to keep me safe by saying things like, You’re past your prime. You missed the window. I’m saying back,
But what if it all works out?
Cheers,
Carrie
The more life I live, the more I understand how precious our time is. What even a few minutes is worth. It doesn't go unnoticed that you spend some of your day here with me. Thank you for letting me be a small part of it. I hope you always leave with something meaningful.🤍☕️