The Post-It Note That Saved My Sanity (And Maybe My Relationship)

I want to take you back to 2011.

I had just started dating Frank — we'd only known each other about six weeks before things turned romantic, so everything was still shiny and new and a little bit electric. I was excited. Genuinely, giddily excited. But underneath all that excitement? I was kind of a mess.

I hadn't dated in a few years before Frank came along, so I didn't exactly have my sea legs. And I remember this feeling — this constant, buzzing hum of thinking about him. Not in a cute, butterflies-in-your-stomach way. More like... I couldn't turn my brain off. I was intoxicated and anxious at the same time. Obsessing. Overanalyzing. Basically torturing myself with every little thing.

It wasn't fun. It wasn't romantic. I was mentally exhausted, and I wasn't happy.

So one day, I sat down and journaled. And out of that session came the tiniest little exercise that completely shifted things for me.

I grabbed a Post-It note — yes, just a Post-It — and I wrote out my priorities in order of importance:

1. Me

2. My kids

3. My friends

4. Salsa dancing

5. Frank

That's it. Five things. One tiny piece of paper.

And just like that, something clicked.

I could see that I had been giving Frank a mental spot in my life that he hadn't had the time — or the chance — to earn yet. We were four, maybe five weeks in. He was wonderful, but he was also still practically a stranger. And here I was, handing him the starring role in my internal world while everything else faded into the background.

That little list reminded me: I have a full life. A beautiful, rich, full life. And he was a welcome addition to it — not the foundation of it.

Something settled in me after that. I felt more grounded. More like myself. Because here's the truth — even if things with Frank didn't work out, I still had those first four things. I had me. I had my kids. I had my people. I had my dancing. I wasn't going to fall apart.

And I genuinely believe that shift in my energy changed the dynamic between us too. I stopped bringing that heavy, anxious pressure into our time together. I showed up lighter. More present. Less desperate for the relationship to be something before it had even had a chance to become anything.

I also made myself a quiet little promise: if Frank sticks around, if he shows up consistently, if he proves himself to be a good man — then yes, he can move up the list. Maybe all the way to number two someday. But that had to be earned. Not assumed. Not given away for free after a few weeks of butterflies.

And I want to be clear — this wasn't about putting Frank down. Not at all. It was about building myself back up. Because a new relationship, no matter how magical, shouldn't drain the oxygen out of everything else you've worked so hard to build.

Looking back now, I can see exactly what was happening through the lens of attachment theory. I was showing up with a classic anxious attachment style — the kind where your nervous system essentially treats a new relationship like a fire alarm that won't turn off. People with an anxious attachment style tend to over-identify with and obsess over their relationships, becoming preoccupied with the emotional availability of their love interest. That was me, to a T. I wasn't just excited about Frank — I was activated by him, in a way that felt completely out of my control.

Therapists who work with anxiously attached people describe it as rushing — jumping into a relationship like your nervous system depends on it, because the in-between stage (Are we dating? Is this serious? What does he think of me?) feels absolutely excruciating. I didn't have the language for it back then, but that's exactly the place I was living in. The uncertainty was unbearable, and so my brain tried to resolve it by thinking about him constantly — as if obsessing over him would somehow fast-forward us to safety.

What the experts remind us is that this anxious phase in a new relationship is actually an opportunity — a chance to practice pacing, slowing down, and maintaining balance instead of letting go of all the other commitments and people that make you you. The Post-It exercise I stumbled into? That was me — completely by accident — doing exactly what relationship therapists now recommend. Not all of your connection needs come from a romantic relationship. You already have people in your life who offer safety and warmth. Leaning back into those relationships, those passions, that sense of self — that's what creates the groundedness that anxious attachment tries to steal from you.

New love is intoxicating. Infatuation is one of the most exhilarating feelings in the world — and you don't get to feel it that often. But if you let it tip into obsession, it stops being exciting and starts being destabilizing.

I've shared this little Post-It exercise with so many of my girlfriends over the years — whenever they came to me dizzy and anxious over a new guy — and it's helped every single time.

So if you're in that early relationship spiral right now, try it. Grab a piece of paper, get honest with yourself, and write out what truly matters most to you — in order. Let that be your anchor.

And if this resonated with you, I'd genuinely love to hear about it. Drop a comment, send me a message — this is the kind of conversation I live for.