I despise my own tendency toward chronic procrastination. Being bored and itchy–footed seems to have an ironic, inverse effect on me. Rather than rushing through tasks, crossing things from my to–do list in an attempt to prune old wood and allow refreshing, vibrant green growth to peek through; I find myself stuck in a psychological catch 22 situation, a trap of my own’s mind’s making.
The more I have to do, the more I flail and wail against it, and the longer the list of things I’m putting off becomes. Time fades and floats and rolls in on itself and before I know it I’ve spent the last four hours in a loop of procrastination, smoking cigarette after cigarette as I wander my garden or aimlessly surf the net or doze on the lounge watching movies with my kids.
Not that there’s anything particularly wrong with that (except perhaps the smoking of the cigarettes, of course). It’s just that the more I put things off, the more I beat myself up, and the more anxious I get. And I hate that burning, pushing, guilt–driven anxiety with a desperate passion. It’s that constantly bitching, nagging thought that I have not done enough– I have a ‘whole list of things that must be done’ that eats at the back of my mind, but, ironically, feeds and fuels that procrastination the longer it becomes.
I know how ridiculous it sounds, and it frustrates me to be stuck in such a useless cycle as much as I’m sure it frustrates some of you to read it. I know the simple answer…. just suck it up and do it, princess.
I don’t know why it’s not that simple.