Why I Started Designing Planners

I didn’t set out to design planners.

There wasn’t a strategy

or a business plan

or even a clear idea.

There was just a quiet need inside me

a part of me that had been waiting for a long time.

I learned to value myself very late

and very slowly.

Kindness toward myself never came naturally

and I’m still learning it

every day

small step by small step.

But at some point

during the soft, watery seasons of my life

I realized I needed pages

that could hold me gently.

Pages that helped me hear my mind

and hear my heart

when everything felt tangled and loud.

I wanted a space that could guide me softly

when I needed to stop

and a space that could help me look for the reason

when something hurt

without collapsing under it.

And then came earth.

The part of me that needed routine

and quiet structure

and a rhythm that didn’t punish me

or rush me

or make me feel small for what I couldn’t do.

I wanted a planner that didn’t scold

a planner that didn’t demand

a planner that didn’t measure my worth

by the tasks I finished.

I wanted something that would simply be there

when I needed it

steady

patient

gentle.

Fire came later

in seasons when I felt myself rising

but burning too fast

too bright

too close to the edge.

I wanted a place that could help me expand

without consuming myself

a space that could channel my momentum

without letting it turn into exhaustion.

And then

finally

air.

The element I knew the least

but needed the most.

I didn’t want a pack that required me to be creative.

I wanted one that would loosen the knots inside me

so creativity could come out on its own

softly

unexpectedly

freely.

Throughout this whole process

I kept thinking of the people I love

the ones I want to support

the ones I want to hold gently in their own seasons.

But somewhere along the way

with a quiet kind of pride

I realized something new.

I had become one of those people too.

That is why I design planners.

Not to organize a life

but to soften it

hold it

support it

and give it space

to breathe

to rise

to return

to begin

again and again

with kindness.