Your Workarounds Are Data (Not a Character Flaw)
Stop Copying Other People’s Systems…
If your “system” only works when you become a completely different person, that is not a system. That is a costume.
Most high-achievers don’t actually lack discipline. They lack fit. They’re trying to run a real life—real clients, real energy fluctuations, real executive-function weirdness—inside a workflow that was built for someone else’s brain.
This is why you can download the prettiest Notion dashboard on the internet, follow the exact routine, and still end up in the same chaos three weeks later—except now you also feel like you failed at productivity.
You didn’t fail. You just copied the wrong blueprint.
In this post, we’re going to do this the bookish way. We’re going to study the evidence. We’re going to treat your patterns like primary sources. And we’re going to pull one conclusion that matters: your workarounds are not embarrassing. They’re data. They’re your life trying to tell you what kind of support you actually need.
The template was built from someone else’s life
Here’s the line nobody wants to say out loud because it ruins the fantasy:
A system can be good and still be wrong for you.
Most “best practice” systems are built from assumptions.
They assume:
a certain kind of energy consistency
a certain tolerance for admin
a certain team size (or no team)
a certain memory style (“I’ll remember that later” people, I envy you)
a certain decision-making rhythm
a certain baseline of executive function on a random Tuesday
And then you drag that system into your life—your client load, your brain, your hormones, your actual calendar—and you wonder why it doesn’t magically produce relief.
It’s not because you’re broken.
It’s because the system was not built from your friction. It was built from someone else’s.
This is why copying templates is such a trap. Templates can be an amazing starting point, but they’re still approximations. They give you structure, but they can’t give you self-awareness. And self-awareness is the part that makes a system sustainable.
You’re not “so organized.” You’re adapting
People say “you’re so organized” like it’s a personality trait you were born with.
But a lot of what gets labeled as organization is actually adaptation.
It’s learned support.
It’s you building infrastructure around the parts of your brain and your life that are not going to be held together by vibes, good intentions, or the phrase “I’ll remember that later.”
Here’s a tiny example that’s weirdly revealing.
I was at a workshop and the speaker mentioned a book. She knew it was written by the guy who wrote Traction, but she couldn’t remember the title.
I had my laptop open, so I immediately started looking it up.
Someone behind me laughed—like, “Of course you’d be the person to look it up.”
And fair.
But internally? I wasn’t looking it up because I’m a gold-star student or the teacher’s pet of the networking group. I was looking it up because if I didn’t close that open loop, my ADHD brain was going to chew on it for the next ten minutes instead of listening.
Sometimes looking the thing up is not the distraction. Sometimes it’s the off-ramp that lets you come back.
That’s adaptation.
And the same logic applies to all the little things you do that you’ve been quietly judging.
Your workaround might be the first draft of the system
The thing you keep calling “bad habits” might be your life handing you a requirements document.
Here are a few examples of what I mean:
You look things up immediately because an open loop hijacks your attention until it’s closed.
You voice-note yourself because writing from a blank page makes your brain evacuate the premises.
You need everything in one searchable place because scattered information makes you feel like you’re losing your mind.
You capture ideas the second they arrive because otherwise they either vanish or become a full business model by breakfast.
You have a weekly review practice because your brain cannot hold every lesson, pattern, and friction point by itself.
If you keep doing something—even when you “shouldn’t need it”—that is worth studying.
Because sometimes the workaround isn’t the problem.
Sometimes it’s the first draft.
The point is not to shame the workaround. The point is to ask what it’s trying to solve.
And the answer to that question is usually a lot more useful than another app recommendation.
Stop building systems for your fantasy self
Most people build systems for fantasy-you.
Fantasy-you has steady energy, unlimited executive function, no client emergencies, no hormonal chaos, and no weird Tuesday that breaks the whole plan.
Fantasy-you is consistent, linear, and mildly robotic.
Fantasy-you does not exist.
So if your system only works when you become fantasy-you, the system is not “support.” It’s performance.
The goal is not to force yourself into the thing that should work.
The goal is to build the thing that actually holds you.
And this is where the work gets quiet and honest.
Instead of asking, “What system should I use?” ask questions that point you back to the evidence:
Where do I keep getting stuck?
What do I keep interrupting myself to solve?
What am I trying to remember that should be captured somewhere?
What gets easier when everything lives in one place?
What routine only works when it happens at a specific time of day?
What platform technically works but feels heavier in my actual life?
What have I been calling a flaw that might actually be a clue?
That is your system brief.
Not a screenshot. Not a viral setup. Not a “here’s my morning routine” montage.
Your actual life.
The real test is relief
There’s one metric I care about more than aesthetic, more than feature lists, more than whether your dashboard could go semi-viral.
Does the system create relief?
Does it reduce the “where is this?” tax?
Does it get the decision out of your head and into a place where it can be managed?
Does it make the next step clearer?
Does it help you come back faster when your brain wanders?
Because a system that requires you to become more linear, more always-on, more consistent, and less human in order to use it is not a support system.
It’s a costume.
And we are not building digital costumes.
We are building infrastructure.
When “a great platform” still isn’t the right container
This is also why it’s possible to use a tool that is objectively good and still feel like something is off.
A platform can be great and still not be great for you.
A routine can be smart and still not fit your actual day.
A workflow can be “best practice” and still create more drag than relief.
If you’ve been paying attention, your body has probably been telling you this already.
“Heavier than it should be” is information.
“Another mouth to feed” is information.
“Another tab I have to keep alive” is information.
Not drama. Not failure. Data.
Your next move (please do not rebuild your entire life)
Do not watch a post like this and go renovate your whole Notion setup.
That’s how we end up with a 19-tab productivity remodel and no actual progress.
Here’s the move: Pick one workaround you’ve been judging.
Then ask three questions:
What problem is this workaround solving?
What does it tell me about how I actually work?
What would it look like to build around this instead of fighting it?
That’s it.
That is how you stop copying other people’s systems and start building your own.
Want the kitchen-island version of this?
This blog is the study. The newsletter is the kitchen island.
If you want the more personal, behind-the-scenes version of these ideas—the real-life reps that turn into actual systems—join Sunday CEO Diaries at coachellyn.com/list.
And if you’re reading this thinking, “My business is full of friction, but I cannot tell what’s actually causing it,” start with the diagnostic: coachellyn.com/report.
Stay relentless, but keep it sustainable…
