Getting Everything Done at Once

In the course of my self-employment, I have always tried to make the most out of every day. The to-do list is simply endless, and the time available each day is limited – albeit fairly and equally distributed (every person has 24 hours a day 🙂).
As the thought “I absolutely want to work freelance” became increasingly clear during my journey, I began at exactly that time to put my ambitious plans into action. The beginner’s mindset drove me to work on things impulsively.
Equipped with a camera, a few way too expensive lenses, a shotgun mic, tripod, video-editing laptop, and a healthy dose of optimism, I set not just one, but several goals for myself: build a homepage, start a YouTube channel, maintain other social media channels.
By the way: For someone who had for years absolutely refused to show their private life on social media, this was a somewhat difficult undertaking in several ways.
Moreover, it was important to me to stay fit (regular sport/Yoga practice), meditate, and educate myself daily with new knowledge – to keep my own Yoga practice and the way I ideally convey my knowledge up to date.
Oh yes – and at that time, I was traveling as a backpacker in Southeast Asia and Canada.

Needless to say: Anyone who has experienced backpacking or traveling in general can understand that planning on the road (where to go, when, how, what to eat, who to meet, what to see) is a somewhat exciting challenge.
Anyone who has tried to build a social media presence or self-employment in any field can probably confirm this phenomenon – a somewhat difficult undertaking.
And everyone knows the pitfalls of new sports ambitions (perhaps even as a classic New Year’s resolution) all too well.
So there I was – motivated and confronted with a variety of tasks, whose implementation I had set as my goal at the same time.

At first, I honestly thought I could do everything at once: camera equipment, sound, editing, lighting, content production, social media, hostel life – and then also build a new routine. Teach yoga, shoot videos, develop ideas. Sounds like adventure, like freedom, right?
It was – only also: minimal overload.

I remember evenings when I sat somewhere in Canada in a hostel room, charging camera batteries while music played outside, and ten tabs were open in my head at the same time: write script, post, edit.
I wanted everything at once – and eventually realized that this quickly takes away the joy of the process. You put a lot of energy in but quickly lose overview – and on days when nothing goes according to plan (empty batteries / overheated camera / defocus during filming after 30 minutes of a one-shot workout routine – and all this after having found the perfect spot at a remote lake in the middle of nowhere) …
It quickly leads to frustration and thinking: “What the sht – why am I even doing this?”* One then tends to question everything.

Fortunately, in exactly such moments, you meet the right people.
An acquaintance I made while traveling (interestingly, this young lady had been in the field I wanted to establish myself in for a few years longer) gave me this tip: “You need high frustration tolerance.”
And I took it to heart.
This helped me especially at the beginning to process all the setbacks and mistakes that are inevitable. Only – instead of, as mentioned, quickly throwing in the towel, I simply thought at some point: mark it as done – lessons learned.
No more dwelling on mistakes, just think briefly: “What was it good for?” What is the lesson to take for the future? And then … start again and keep going.

A lion who narrowly misses the desperately needed hunt success with gazelles also has no choice. Imagine a depressed lion pitying itself because the gazelle was faster again – sounds absurd, right?
But this is exactly how we behave over and over again when we passionately pursue our goals, only to face some hard setbacks.

I have learned that new habits need stability, repetition, and calm to grow. But if the ground constantly shifts – new place, new bed, new sounds, new schedules – no routine can take root. It just slips away before it can establish itself.

Consequently, after some time, I focused on a few essential actions. Instead of filling a two-page A4 to-do list, I made it a habit to plan three things (already the night before for the coming day).
This also saves energy – and the morning question, when half asleep with the first coffee: “What am I doing today with the day ahead of me?”
And here too, I have to admit: I did not always manage to accomplish the three things I had planned for the day.

This has nothing to do with “lack of discipline,” as people like to tell themselves. It’s simply human.
Our brain loves repetition, it loves predictability. According to research in the neurobiology of habits, routine arises from a simple but powerful principle: cue – action – reward.
So if I have the same sequence every morning – get up, brush teeth, roll out yoga mat – it eventually becomes automatic.
But woe if this context breaks. Suddenly there is no familiar place, no fixed time, no visible signal – and the brain loses the thread.

Or another example, to illustrate: Imagine clearing a completely new path through a very dense and unknown forest. Constantly stumbling over roots, branches hitting your face, getting lost, maybe ending in a dead end, and needing a lot of effort to overcome dense thorn-covered bushes (I love blackberry bushes).
Sounds exhausting and draining at first.
Now imagine the day after you have cleared this path, you go through it again. Suddenly the path is no longer new. You will cleverly avoid the dead ends, the bushes may already be half removed, and the leaves that previously covered the tricky roots or stones on the forest floor are now gone. You cleverly avoid every misstep.
Walk this path for a few weeks and months – and eventually it is no longer a simple path, but a perfectly built road.
(I am not suggesting turning forest floors into concrete, but I hope the comparison doesn’t stretch too far.)

It is the same with our habits. Initially hard, full of uncertainty and trial-and-error, it takes a lot of energy to stick with it. But the longer and more often we repeat these actions, the better the “data highway” in our brain works, which allows us to stay consistent – also called neuroplasticity:
The brain’s ability to reorganize itself through new experiences, learning, and repeated actions.

Back to the topic: Why we do not always manage to implement all the great things we planned for our health or goal achievement – and here I assume, perhaps impractically, that you intend to restructure several things in your life at once.
More sport, healthy eating, less social media, reading a book every day, forgetting an ex or working on a better relationship, jumping into the dating market, taking a cooking, dance, or painting class, meeting new people, looking for a new job, and moving to a new city.
Perhaps some of this applies to you in one way or another.

What happens psychologically? Competition arises in the mind.
Every new habit, every goal – “more content,” “more exercise,” “more focus” – competes for your attention. And attention is limited. If too many things compete for it at the same time, the system collapses.

I felt this very clearly while traveling: As soon as my environment was unstable, even small setbacks started to feel bigger. A sleepless night, a missed morning routine – and the whole day felt somehow off.
It was as if my inner system was searching for stability but found nothing tangible.

Today I know: You cannot develop everything at once. At least not sustainably. New habits emerge when they are simple, clear, and compatible with life.
So I started to lower my expectations.
One goal at a time. No more multitasking marathon.

Instead of “I do 45 minutes of yoga every day and then work three hours on my website”, I now tell myself:
“I roll out the mat. Just five minutes. If it’s more – great. If not – that’s okay too.”
It sounds trivial, but that’s exactly how it works. Small, consistent actions build trust in your own structure. They create a rhythm that feels easy – instead of like another to-do.

I have learned to set small, fixed anchors – rituals that ground me regardless of location. Two minutes of breathing after waking up. A short moment of silence before picking up my phone. No quick coffee in between – grind the beans by hand, smell them, boil water, pour freshly ground coffee, wait patiently until the last drop passes through the filter into my cup.
These tiny things hold me together when everything outside is in motion.

And above all: I allow myself mistakes. Setbacks. I no longer see them as proof of weakness but as part of the process.
Routine is not rigid; it adapts like water – and that takes patience.

Looking back, I see that I sometimes demanded too much of myself. Too many goals, too little space in between. Today, I try to leave the space. Because sometimes, doing less is actually the fastest way to truly arrive.
(By the way, there is also a difference between idleness and killing time – but that’s probably a topic for another blog post.)

When you focus your attention and direct it where it has the most effect – on one thing, on one deliberate step – space emerges. Space for creativity, freedom, depth.
Your self-employment, your journey, your practice – they don’t have to be perfect at the same time.
They are allowed to grow. Slowly, steadily, organically.
Just like life itself does. 🌱