the struggle

Lately I’ve been struggling a lot with procrastination. Maybe it’s the late-winter malaise, or the covid anniversary malaise, or maybe she was born with it!, but it’s been a daily struggle. I start with great intentions, but by the time I sit down with my first cup of coffee all of ten minutes after I wake up, I want a treat. I want a break. I want some time to luxuriate in the book I’m reading for fun, or the scroll-machine, before I get started on tasks. (I am very drawn to luxury when it’s time to do a task). But I’m not allowed to have luxury, because it’s time to work, so instead of choosing luxury or tasks I fall into the chasm in between them. I settle for numbness. I sit there letting my eyes grow fuzzy as I play some mindless game or refresh my inbox, watching minutes tick away apace. Then it’s time for a lunch break. And then all of a sudden it’s 4:30 and I panic and do everything.

(If you’re here from where I work: this is fiction and has never actually happened.)

I know part of this is just who I am and have always been. In years past I have received worried calls from long-distance boyfriends with whom I shared a Netflix password, concerned about the amount of episodes I was managing to watch of shows I claimed not to like at bizarre hours of the night. Especially when it got close to law-school midterms time. 

But there’s a whole other part of me that just so wants to do better. I look at Ian, who manages to do the things he is supposed to do, and then he moves on to the things he wants to do. Imagine that! So often, I seem to do neither the things I’m supposed to do nor the things I claim to want to do.

Good news, though: I’ve been experimenting with a Pomodoro timer, which is working so far (four days in). Right now I’m all caught up on tasks I wanted to accomplish, and I’m enjoying a nice little glass of root beer on my terrace. I can extrapolate from this that I am permanently cured of my tendency to procrastinate and I will never again do it. Congratulations to me!

Next time, I’ll admit what has been keeping me stuck in the numb in-between.

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One thought on “the struggle

  1. Pingback: The bottom of the hole | PsychoPomp

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