It usually starts small.
I open a spreadsheet to check one number: a debt balance, my yearly reading total, the number on the scale that morning. Then I click another tab. And another. Before I know it, I’m reviewing dashboards of my own making... color-coded, neatly labeled, quietly waiting to tell me where I stand.
I track everything.
What I Track
I track a few main categories, and then I track the details inside them, because “the details” are the part my brain actually trusts.
Finances
- Income
- Savings
- Debt balances
- Weekly budgets
Reading Life
- Number of books read
- Genres
- Source (library, Kindle, NetGalley, etc.)
- Ratings
- Format
- Days to finish
Health
- Weight
- Migraines (frequency, patterns)
- Miles run
Media & Projects
- Christmas movies watched
- TV watchlists
- Blog posts (drafted, scheduled, published)
- Yearly goals
Some of it is practical. Some of it is preference. Some of it probably looks excessive from the outside. But none of it feels accidental.
I don’t just track progress. I track patterns. I track proof.
Why I Track
I like knowing where I stand. I don’t like vague numbers or “around” estimates. I don’t like guessing. Numbers are clean. They don’t soften things and they don’t dramatize them. They just exist.
If I can see it, I can understand it. If I can understand it, I can adjust it. Tracking turns “I think I’m doing okay” into something concrete.
But there’s more to it than clarity.
Tracking gives me a sense of control when I don’t always feel like I have much. Life fluctuates. Timelines shift. Progress stalls. Plans change. The spreadsheet doesn’t. It responds to input. It recalculates. It reflects reality without commentary.
I have a plethora of spreadsheets. I built them all from scratch. I tweak formulas, adjust columns, move categories around until everything makes sense in my brain. The structure matters. The layout matters. The logic matters.
I am particular. Rigid. Categories need to fit. Totals need to reconcile. If something feels even slightly off, it stays with me until I fix it. When everything aligns, something in my brain settles.
What It Gives Me... and What It Costs
Tracking gives me clarity. When a balance drops, I see it. When a goal inches forward, I see it. When a migraine pattern emerges, I see it. Progress feels fragile when it’s only in your head. It feels sturdier when it’s documented.
It also keeps me honest. I can’t round down totals or inflate effort. The numbers don’t care about my mood.
But there’s a thin line between awareness and evaluation. Checking a total can feel productive. Refreshing it can feel urgent. When everything is measured, everything is visible... including the days when nothing moves.
And sometimes my tracking crosses into obsessive territory. A number that hasn’t been updated. A category that no longer fits cleanly. Something unfinished. It lingers in the back of my mind until I resolve it. What starts as a quick check can stretch longer than I intended — not because I want it to, but because my brain doesn’t like leaving loose ends.
Tracking gives me clarity, but it also gives my brain something to hold onto. Something to revisit, refine, and recheck. Sometimes I open a spreadsheet without meaning to change anything, just to confirm that it still makes sense. That it still reflects reality. That nothing has slipped outside the structure.
Sometimes I wonder if I track progress, or if I track reassurance.
What It Comes Down To
I don’t track because I’m chasing perfection. I track because visibility feels safer than uncertainty.
The spreadsheets won’t solve anything for me. They won’t speed up timelines or guarantee outcomes. But they will tell me exactly where I stand.
And for someone who thinks more clearly with columns and totals than with vague feelings, that matters.
Control might be temporary. Progress might be uneven. But clarity? That’s something I can build. And rebuild. And tweak until everything aligns.
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