You Can’t Scale Chaos — But You Can Contain It

Look, I love chaos. I do. I’ve lived in it, worked in it, dined with it, probably married it once or twice – who’s counting?

Chaos keeps things interesting. It gives you stories to tell at dinner parties. It makes you feel alive… until it doesn’t. Until it turns on you like a gremlin that ate after midnight. And suddenly, the chaos you thought was charming is now choking you.

Let’s talk about your browser. Yes, your actual browser. You’ve got 63 tabs open, a dozen extensions installed, four Google Docs you haven’t touched in weeks, and a YouTube video paused at minute 11 from last Thursday because you “meant to finish it.”

You call this working? This isn’t working. This is camping out in the middle of a digital landfill and calling it an office.

Let me say it loud and clear: you can’t scale chaos.

I don’t care how brilliant you are. I don’t care if you run a seven-figure business, teach neuroscience at MIT, or sell homemade potholders on Etsy.

If you’re trying to grow your ideas, your projects, your business – and your system is built on tab roulette, vague bookmarks, and wishful thinking?

You’re not scaling.
You’re spinning.
And eventually, something’s going to fall apart.

“But Joan,” you say, “this is just how I work. I’m a creative. I need to see everything!”

No. No, darling. That’s not creative. That’s clutter with a diploma.

You don’t need to see everything. You need to see the right thing – at the right time – and remember why it mattered in the first place.

Chaos is not a system.
Chaos is a stall tactic.
Chaos is procrastination wearing a tiara.

You think you’re in motion, but you’re just avoiding decisions.

And you’re drowning in your own curiosity.

Here’s the truth: you can’t control everything. But you can contain it.

You can give your thoughts a place.
You can give your tabs a name.
You can give your brain a break.

Because chaos is loud. But clarity? Clarity is quiet – and powerful.

And let me tell you: I didn’t start getting real work done until I figured out how to contain the noise.

Let’s talk tabs. Because they’re the gateway drug.

You open one, then another, then five more “just in case,” and next thing you know, your laptop fan sounds like it’s trying to take off from the runway at LaGuardia.

You leave tabs open for inspiration, research, proof, options, what-ifs, and maybes.

You don’t close them – oh no, that would be commitment. And heaven forbid you commit to anything. What if you need that article about pricing psychology in six months? What if that interview quote is perfect for a future blog post you haven’t even written the title of?

So they stay open.

And you pretend they’re helping you.

They’re not.

They’re staring at you.

Mocking you.

So what do you do?

You contain the chaos.

You give it boundaries. You say, “This thought, this idea, this page – you live here. And you’re labeled. And I’ll come back to you when I need you.”

That’s what a system is.

It’s not perfection. It’s permission.

Permission to close the tab.
Permission to stop carrying it all.
Permission to trust that your thoughts aren’t vanishing into the abyss.

That’s why I use Webloggle. And no, they’re not paying me (although they should be – call me).

It’s not fancy. It doesn’t beep or sparkle or throw fireworks at you when you do something right.

It just does one thing beautifully.

It lets you save a link with meaning.

Not just “save page.”
Not just “add to bookmarks where good ideas go to die.”
It asks you: “Why are you saving this?”

And you answer:

“Use this structure for Client X proposal.”
“Mention this in podcast – perfect quote on burnout.”
“Inspiration for next homepage layout – clean, emotional.”

Then you put it in a folder. A real one. Named like a grown-up.

• “Launch Ideas – Q4”

• “Writing Hooks – Emotional”

• “Design – Testimonials Layouts That Actually Work”

And then you close the tab.

That’s right. You close it.

Because now it’s not floating in your mental soup.

It’s contained.

You want to know what changed for me?

Everything.

When I open my browser now, it’s not an obstacle course. It’s a workspace.

I don’t scroll through tabs squinting at titles like I’m defusing a bomb.

I don’t wonder, “Why did I save this?”

I know.

Because I told myself.

And if you can’t tell your future self what something is for, then guess what?

It’s not important.

It’s just noise dressed up as usefulness.

You can’t scale chaos, but you can build a system that holds your brilliance – without crushing you in the process.

And that starts with naming things.

Naming is how you reclaim your mind.

It’s how you stop treating your ideas like loose change in the bottom of your purse.

It’s how you give them dignity.

People think systems have to be rigid.

They don’t.

They just have to hold the shape of your thinking.

You don’t need a life overhaul.

You don’t need a $97 digital productivity course with pastel worksheets and a workbook named “Conquer Your Day.”

You just need to start naming your tabs.

Start dragging them into Webloggle.
Start saving them with intent.
Start letting go of the mental gymnastics routine you’ve been doing since 2011.

You want to feel calm again?

You want to move through your work without that “What did I forget?” panic tap-dancing in the back of your brain?

Contain your chaos.

Put it in a folder.
Give it a label.
Say, “Not now – but definitely later.”
And then move on.

Not because you don’t care.

But because now?

Now it’s safe.

Now it’s handled.

Now it’s not your problem.

Final thought?

You can’t scale chaos.

And you don’t have to.

Because once you build a place to put things – a real place – your brain stops fighting you.

And you start getting work done like the powerhouse you already are.

So do it.

Contain it.

Name it.

And for heaven’s sake, close a tab today.

You’ve earned it.