My First Go with the Dr. Milici Method
So, there I was, staring at this huge project. You know the feeling, right? Like a mountain you gotta climb, but you don’t even know where to put your first foot. I was properly stuck, just going round in circles, making coffee, staring out the window, anything but actually doing the work. My brain felt like a tangled mess of wires.
Then, a colleague, bless ’em, just casually mentioned this “dr milici” approach during a coffee break. Didn’t give me a textbook or anything, just a couple of core ideas they’d heard about. Sounded a bit out there, to be honest, almost too simple to work. But hey, I was at that point where I’d try pretty much anything to get moving. So, I figured, “What the heck, let’s give this dr milici thing a shot.” I didn’t have much to lose except more time staring into space.
Diving In: The Messy Start and Getting My Hands Dirty
First thing I did, following what little I’d gleaned, was to break down the monstrous task. And I mean really break it down. Not just into big chunks, but into tiny, almost ridiculously small, pieces. I remember spending a good couple of hours just listing everything. It felt a bit daft at first, writing down “open the software” or “find the reference file” as actual steps. But the core of this dr milici idea, as I understood it, was to make each individual action so small that your brain couldn’t really object to doing it. Like, “Okay, I can manage that.”
Then came what I called the “work-then-walk” part. It wasn’t your standard Pomodoro, not really. It was more specific, or at least how I interpreted it:
- I’d set a timer for a super short burst of focused work on just one of those tiny pieces. We’re talking 20 minutes, maybe 25 if I was really in a groove, but no more.
- Then, and this was crucial, a mandatory 5 to 10-minute break where I had to get up and move. No checking emails, no scrolling social media. I’d literally walk around the room, do some quick stretches, or even step outside for a minute if the weather was decent. The point was to completely disengage.
- After the break, I’d take just a couple of minutes to look at what I’d just ticked off and line up the very next tiny piece.
I got my cheap kitchen timer out and decided to commit to it for a solid day. Man, those first few cycles were rough. I kept forgetting the “walk” part, or I’d get an idea and just blast through the timer, messing up the whole rhythm. It felt incredibly unnatural, like trying to write with my left hand. My mind was constantly rebelling, “This is silly! This is slowing me down!” Even though, truth be told, I wasn’t getting much done my “normal” way either.
Finding a Groove (Eventually)
But I’m a stubborn sort. I told myself I’d give it at least three full days. Around the middle of the second day, something started to shift. It wasn’t like a lightbulb moment, more like a slow thaw. I began to actually look forward to those forced movement breaks. Instead of feeling like interruptions, they became little mental palate cleansers, a chance to shake off the mental cobwebs before diving into the next small task.
The biggest surprise for me was how my perception of the huge project changed. It stopped being this single, overwhelming beast. Instead, it just became a sequence of these little 20-minute efforts. And guess what? I started actually finishing those tiny tasks. Ticking them off my silly, long list. That feeling of accomplishment, even for small stuff, was a bigger motivator than I expected.
Now, don’t get me wrong, this dr milici thing wasn’t some miracle cure. There were still days when it felt like wading through treacle. Sometimes I’d fall off the wagon and go back to my old, chaotic ways for a few hours. But the beauty of this approach, or my version of it anyway, was that it gave me a simple structure to return to. A way to reset and just focus on the next tiny step, then the next walk.
So, that’s my story with the dr milici method. It’s not fancy, and I’m pretty sure I’m not doing it “officially” or anything. But it helped me dig myself out of a hole when I was properly bogged down. I still use the basic principles – break it down small, work in short bursts, and physically move – whenever I feel that familiar cloud of overwhelm starting to gather. Simple stuff, but it worked for me.
