From Hustle to Harmony: How I Plan My Creative Year
“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” — Ecclesiastes 3:1 (BSB)
The Year I Stopped Planning Altogether
I used to have a YouTube channel dedicated to planning systems. Not just any planning systems—hyper-detailed, color-coded, time-blocked planning systems that promised if you just followed the right method, used the right planner, created the right spreads, you could finally get your life together.
I bought into hustle culture so deeply that I wasn’t just consuming it—I was promoting it. Every video was another tutorial on productivity hacks, planner setups, and goal-crushing strategies. I genuinely believed that the right system would solve everything, that productivity was the path to purpose, that if I could just plan better, I could finally keep all the plates spinning.
Until the day I couldn’t.
The crash wasn’t dramatic. It was quiet, like most burnout is. I stopped using planners entirely. Not because I didn’t care about my commitments, but because every time I opened one, I felt the weight of everything I wasn’t accomplishing. Things fell through the cracks. Important things. And then I stopped posting on YouTube because the guilt became unbearable—how could I keep teaching people to do what was slowly destroying me?
I had been influencing others to follow the same productivity culture that had trapped me, and I didn’t know how to untangle myself from it, much less show them a different way.
When “Working as Unto the Lord” Becomes Another Taskmaster
Here’s what nobody tells you about hustle culture in Christian creative spaces: it doesn’t come dressed as the enemy. It comes dressed as faithfulness.
“Work as unto the Lord” becomes a reason to never rest. “Redeeming the time” becomes permission to pack every moment. “Well done, good and faithful servant” becomes a measuring stick we use to beat ourselves with when we don’t produce enough, create enough, or accomplish enough.
The pressure in ministry and creative work is different than in secular spaces because we’ve spiritualized our productivity. We’re not just building businesses—we’re building kingdoms. We’re not just creating content—we’re discipling souls. And if we’re not constantly producing, constantly creating, constantly available, then are we really faithful?
I’ve watched countless female Christian creatives burn out under this weight. They plan their years like military campaigns, their weeks like assembly lines, their days like competitions against the clock. And when their bodies, minds, or creativity inevitably give out, they assume the problem is them—their lack of discipline, their weak faith, their inability to just push through.
But what if the problem isn’t us? What if the problem is that we’re trying to live by a rhythm that was never designed for human—or divine—creativity?
What God Knew About Planning (That We Forgot)
On the fourth day of creation, God created the sun, moon, and stars. Genesis 1:14 tells us these lights were made “for signs and for seasons, and for days and years.” Not for stress. Not for schedules. Not for hustle.
For seasons.
God built rhythm into the very fabric of creation. Day and night. Seasons that come and go. Times of planting and times of harvest. Times of growth and times of rest. The heavenly bodies weren’t created to drive us forward relentlessly—they were created to mark time, to create natural boundaries, to remind us that life has seasons.
Ecclesiastes 3:1 says it beautifully: “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” Not a deadline. Not a quota. A season. A time.
The wisdom literature of Scripture is full of this seasonal understanding. There’s a time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted. A time to break down and a time to build up. A time to weep and a time to laugh. A time to keep silence and a time to speak (Ecclesiastes 3:2-7).
Daniel 2:21 reminds us that God “changes times and seasons.” Not us. We don’t control the seasons—we work within them. We honor them. We learn to recognize them and align our work with what God is already doing.
When I discovered this—really discovered it, not just as a nice Bible verse but as an actual framework for my creative life—everything shifted. I realized I’d been trying to plan like I could create my own daylight, force my own seasons, control time itself. But God never asked me to do that. He asked me to pay attention to the seasons He was already orchestrating and to work in harmony with them.
How a Pool Party Changed My Planning
My shift to seasonal planning didn’t come from reading another productivity book or taking another planning course. It came from serving in our apartment ministry.
My husband and I are responsible for planning two events per month for our residents—people from incredibly diverse backgrounds, different ages, different interests, different schedules. And I quickly realized that taking advantage of the seasons wasn’t just helpful; it was essential.
When the weather warms up and the pool opens, we plan pool parties. When fall arrives, we do pumpkin decorating. When December comes, we gather for cookie decorating and hot cocoa. The seasons create natural gathering points. They give us common ground that transcends our differences.
I started noticing something: seasonal planning worked because it honored reality. I wasn’t fighting against the weather, the daylight, the natural rhythms of the year. I was working with them. And people showed up differently when the event aligned with what was already happening in the world around them.
Then it hit me: if seasonal planning worked for building community in my apartment complex, why wouldn’t it work for my creative business and ministry?
I started looking at my own creative year differently. What if instead of forcing myself to maintain the same output year-round, I paid attention to the seasons? What if I let winter be for rest and planning? Spring for new launches and fresh starts? Summer for lighter, experimental work? Fall for harvesting and completion?
What if I stopped fighting my AuDHD brain’s need for variety and instead built that variety into the rhythm of my year? What if the “inconsistency” I’d been shaming myself for was actually just seasonal living that I’d been trying to force into a rigid, year-round structure?
For me, this also meant paying attention to the church calendar. Lent became a natural season for deeper spiritual work and simpler creative rhythms. Advent became a time for reflection and preparation, not just in my spiritual life but in my creative planning. Easter wasn’t just a celebration—it was a marker of resurrection in my creative projects, a time for new beginnings.
I’m not suggesting everyone needs to follow the liturgical calendar (though if that resonates with you, it’s a beautiful framework). But I am suggesting that we need some kind of seasonal markers—whether they’re tied to nature, the school year, the church calendar, or simply the rhythms we notice in our own creative energy.
The Four Permissions I Needed (And You Might Too)
As I’ve learned to plan seasonally instead of hustling perpetually, I’ve had to give myself permission for things that once would have felt like failure. Maybe you need these permissions too.
Permission to plan differently than everyone else. Even differently from me. I used to think there was a “right way” to plan, and if I could just find it, everything would work. But the right way for you might look nothing like my way. Your seasons might be marked by the school year if you have kids. They might be shaped by your energy levels if you’re chronically ill. They might follow the natural world if you’re deeply connected to creation. They might be completely unique to your life, your calling, your design. And that’s not just okay—that’s how it should be.
When I finally gave myself permission to stop following everyone else’s planning methods, I discovered something freeing: my AuDHD brain actually loves seasonal planning because it builds in the variety and fresh starts I crave. What looks like “inconsistency” in a traditional planning system looks like “seasonal adaptation” in this framework. Different personality types will approach this differently, too—and I’ll talk more about that in a moment—but the point is that your planning should serve your life and calling, not the other way around.
Permission to adjust plans midstream. This one is hard for those of us who like closure and completion. I spent years thinking that changing my plans meant I’d failed at planning. But seasonal living means responding to what’s actually happening, not rigidly sticking to what I thought would happen.
Last year, I pivoted my entire creative business. What started as a YouTube channel about planning evolved into Soft Sacred Slow, a digital ministry for female Christian creatives. My original “plan” for the year looked nothing like what actually happened. And you know what? That pivot wasn’t a failure—it was faithfulness. It was paying attention to the season God was bringing me into and having the courage to adjust.
Sometimes the season changes faster than we expected. Sometimes we misjudge what season we’re in. Sometimes God redirects us midstream. Building seasonal flexibility into our planning means we can adapt without feeling like we’ve wrecked everything.
Permission to honor your natural rhythms. I used to fight against my energy patterns. If I was tired in the afternoon, I’d drink more coffee and push through. If I had low creative energy in February, I’d shame myself for not being “disciplined enough.” If I needed more processing time than other people, I’d try to speed up my pace.
Learning about my personality type through the DISC framework and understanding my AuDHD brain has taught me that my rhythms aren’t flaws to fix—they’re features to honor. I have high creative energy in the evenings, so that’s when I write. In the mornings, my creative energy and executive functioning are pretty low, so I use that time for admin blocks that don’t require a lot of creativity or processing. I need recovery time after intense social interactions, so I plan for that instead of booking back-to-back commitments. I go through seasons where I need more structure and seasons where I need more flexibility.
Your natural rhythms might be completely different from mine. You might come alive in the morning. You might thrive on deadlines or need spacious timelines. You might love detailed planning or prefer loose frameworks. The goal isn’t to match anyone else’s rhythm—it’s to discover and honor your own.
Permission to keep it simple. This might be the most important one. After years of complex planning systems, I’ve learned that simple and sustainable beats detailed and depleting every single time.
Right now, in this season of motherhood, homemaking, and building two brands, my planning needs to be simple, or it won’t happen at all. I can’t maintain elaborate systems. I can’t color-code everything. I can’t spend hours every week on planning.
So I don’t. And that’s not a cop-out—it’s wisdom.
Sometimes keeping it simple means planning just one quarter at a time instead of the whole year. Sometimes it means having a loose framework instead of a detailed schedule. Sometimes it means choosing three priorities for the season instead of twenty goals for the year.
Simple planning isn’t lazy planning. It’s sustainable planning. And sustainability is what allows us to still be creating, still be serving, still be faithful five years from now instead of burned out and done.
How Your Personality Shapes Your Seasons
One thing I’ve learned through becoming a Certified Christian DISC Facilitator is that different personality types approach planning—and seasons—in completely different ways. Understanding your DISC type can help you plan in a way that works with your God-given design instead of against it.
If you’re a high D (Decisive, Direct, Driven), you might naturally gravitate toward seasonal goal-setting with clear milestones and measurable outcomes. Your seasons might be defined by what you’re accomplishing or conquering. You might need permission to slow down in rest seasons and to see Sabbath as productive in its own way.
If you’re a high I (Inspiring, Relational, Enthusiastic), you might love the fresh-start energy of new seasons and plan with lots of variety and creative expression. Your seasons might be marked by relationships and community rhythms. You might need permission to finish what you start before launching into the next exciting season.
If you’re a high S (Steady, Supportive, Reliable), you might prefer gradual transitions between seasons and planning that honors your need for stability and predictability. Your seasons might be defined by relationships and maintaining healthy rhythms. You might need permission to change plans when circumstances shift, even if it feels disruptive.
If you’re a high C (Careful, Correct, Conscientious), you might approach seasonal planning with detailed research and organized systems that make logical sense. Your seasons might be marked by quality standards and thorough completion. You might need permission to embrace the imperfection of seasons that don’t go exactly as planned.
Most of us are a blend of these types, which means our seasonal planning might incorporate elements from multiple approaches. If you’re new to DISC or want to understand your personality type better, I wrote an introduction to the Sacred Design framework that explores how God designed each type for specific aspects of creative ministry.
The point isn’t to box yourself into a category—it’s to understand why certain planning approaches feel natural to you and others feel like you’re wearing someone else’s clothes. When you plan in alignment with your personality, seasonal rhythms become sustainable instead of just another system to fail at.
Where to Begin (Without Overwhelming Yourself)
If you’re reading this and feeling both excited and overwhelmed—excited by the idea of seasonal planning but overwhelmed by where to start—let me offer you the simplest possible beginning.
First, notice what season you’re actually in right now. Not what season the calendar says. Not what season you wish you were in. What season is your creative life actually experiencing?
Are you in a planting season—full of ideas and new beginnings, but not much visible fruit yet? Are you in a growing season—tending to projects that are developing but need consistent care? Are you in a harvest season—reaping the rewards of previous work and gathering what’s ready? Are you in a winter season—resting, recovering, or waiting for the next thing to emerge?
There’s no right or wrong answer here. The goal is simply to acknowledge reality. So many of us are trying to harvest in a planting season or plant in a winter season, and then we wonder why we’re exhausted and frustrated.
Second, let go of one thing that doesn’t fit this season. Just one thing. Maybe it’s a commitment you made when you were in a different season. Maybe it’s a goal that doesn’t align with where you actually are. Maybe it’s a planning method that worked before but doesn’t work now. Maybe it’s an expectation you’re holding yourself to that doesn’t honor the reality of your current life.
Letting go isn’t giving up. It’s making space for what actually belongs in this season.
Third, choose one rhythm that honors where you are. If you’re in a winter season, maybe that rhythm is a regular Sabbath practice or a weekly rest day. If you’re in a planting season, maybe it’s a morning writing time or a weekly idea-capture session. If you’re in a harvest season, maybe it’s a dedicated time for completing and celebrating finished work.
One rhythm. Not a complete overhaul of your entire life. Just one small thing that aligns with your current season and your natural design.
For those of you who follow the church calendar, you might find it helpful to let those rhythms shape your creative seasons. Advent could be a time of preparation and planning. Lent could be a season of simplification and deeper work. Easter could mark resurrection and new launches. You don’t have to follow this pattern—but if it resonates, it’s a beautiful framework that connects your creative rhythm to the larger story of faith.
The key is to start small and simple. Add complexity only if and when it serves you. Remember: the goal isn’t to create a perfect planning system. The goal is to live and create in harmony with the seasons God is bringing you through.
Planning as a Tool, Not a Taskmaster
I still plan my creative year. I still have goals and projects and timelines. But the relationship has changed completely.
Planning used to be my taskmaster—the thing that drove me, judged me, demanded perfection from me. Now it’s a tool—something I use to steward my time and energy in alignment with the season I’m in and the calling I’m living.
Some seasons, my planning is detailed and structured because that’s what the work requires and what my brain needs. Other seasons, it’s loose and flexible because that’s what honors my capacity and my family’s needs. The planning serves my life, not the other way around.
And honestly? I get more done now with seasonal planning than I ever did with hustle culture productivity systems. Not because I’m working more hours or pushing harder, but because I’m working in alignment with reality—with God’s design, with my personality, with the actual season I’m in.
The lights in the sky still mark seasons and times. The rhythms God built into creation are still there, steady and faithful. We just have to pay attention to them instead of trying to create our own daylight.
What season are you in right now? And what would it look like to honor it instead of fight it?
With grace and joy,
Antonisha
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