It's due. We need to talk.

April 15, 2026•4 min read

Hiya,

BAS is due April 28.

It's the same tax story, different tax quarter.

Something reminds you BAS is this month. You have good intentions and a Post-it note somewhere. Probably. You have a passing thought that you should block in some time, but then your to do list or your emails pull you somewhere else entirely.

And poof. Like a fairy godmother with questionable priorities, the BAS thought disappears.

Not consciously avoided. Just… gone.

Then Easter rolls through. Too much chocolate, a bit of a sugar hangover, routines all over the place. You're working, but it's"keep the wheels on" work, not "let's tackle the thing I don't love" work.

So the BAS stays exactly where it was. In the background. Slightly uncomfortable. Not enough to act on.

And now it's the 15th of April.

You glance at your calendar properly. Not a quick flick. An actual look. And you realise there is a lot less space than you thought. Because April 28 is not as far away as it felt when it was just a vague awareness floating around in the background.

Cue internal eeeeeeeek.

Here's the bit that matters, and I'm going to say it without sugar coating it.

We don't run on a consequence based nervous system.We run on interest. And here's the thing — it's not that we don't know. We know the deadline. We know what we should do. We understand completely that April 28 is coming and that not doing it has consequences. That knowledge is all there. It just doesn't get us moving. Knowing something matters is not the same as our brain treating it like it matters.So we wait. Until it's interesting, novel, or urgent. And BAS return is none of those things. Until suddenly it is.

So what happens? We avoid. We think about it. We circle it. We feel it sitting there. We tell ourselves it's going to take hours, it's going to be painful, we need a clear day, better focus, a different version of ourselves. Then comes the self talk. The"why can't I just do it" loop. The quiet, exhaustingcriticismof yourself for not being able to simply begin.

And then the bargaining starts. Tomorrow. Fresh brain, clear morning, proper run at it. Except something happens and now the morning is gone and there's not enough time to finish it in one go — so we don't start at all. The rules we make up for ourselves are fascinating.Can't do it unless we can finish it.Can't start if we're stressed. Can't begin if the conditions aren't right. They feel completely logical in the moment.

Meanwhile, the actual doing part? Usually not the issue.When the urgency hits, we get it done.Fast. Efficient. Sometimes faster than people who've been steadily working on it for weeks. And then it's done. And you sit there for a second thinking… that was it? All that time carrying it around, all that self talk, all those rules — and it took an hour. Maybe less. It's not a capability problem. It never was. It's the lead up. The thinking.The weight of it sitting in your head pretending to be bigger than it actually is.

There's a woman I follow on TikTok, Christi Newrutzen, 750,000 followers, who built her entire audience around one question. How long does it actually take? She films herself, friends, followers — just doing everyday tasks and timing how long they actually take. It's genuinely funny to watch. Until you recognise yourself in it. Until you realise the thing living rent free in your head for three weeks takes less time than your morning coffee.

Of course we avoid.

So here's a little hack I use, because I cannot stand feeling locked in.My diary is a moveable feast. I know that goes against every time blocking, productivity guru, leadership model out there — but for a brain like mine,rigid doesn't work. So instead of booking BAS in and feeling the walls close in, we're going to do something sneakier.

Book the time. And then tell yourself it's just for now.

Not forever. Not a commitment carved in stone. Just… for now. Your brain gets somewhere to put it, the mental load lifts a little, and you still have options. You can move it. You can shift it. You're not locked in.You're just giving it a landing spot so it stops taking up space in your head.

Tricky trickster.

This is not a you problem. This is an us problem.Sparkly brained women in business do this every single quarter.Every. Single. One. There is no normal, but if there was — this would be it.