For years I’ve shunned the curse that is procrastination.
My husband, bless his heart, is afflicted by the malady. For 22 years his propensity to put things off till tomorrow in classic Scarlett O’Hara style has driven me to distraction. Yet somehow in the last year or so, I’ve come to recognize those same symptoms in myself. In reverse.
Hubby procrastinates “normal” things, like paying bills and balancing the checkbook. I have friends who wage an ongoing war against dirty laundry. I grew up in a household where doing the dishes was put off until there weren’t any clean ones left in the cupboard.
My version of procrastination takes a different route. I procrastinate the things I WANT to do. Yeah, yeah… call it crazy. I assume it has something to do with being guilt-and-penance driven. I’ll put off the things that I know will make me feel better and fill hours with “productive” activities like reorganizing the spices or scrubbing the inside of the bathroom cabinets. Even worse, I’m now infected by the social media malady, which allows me to justify countless hours online as “networking” and “ministry” and “branding.”
I always feel better after I exercise, but I continue to generate endless excuses to put off that moment when I push “play.” In the same way, I always feel better when I spend my allotted amount of time writing, but I waste hours tinkering with my website, surfing Facebook, checking email, and pinning things to Pinterest until I’ve used up all the minutes allotted to plugging words into my latest manuscript.
Is there a cure? I’m sure there is. It starts with the letter “D,”and stands for discipline, diligence, and determination.