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Thou shalt not procrastinate (much)

Ugh. It's been two weeks since my last post and my work on The Significance Project has all but ground to a halt. But it's not done! What's wrong? What's wrong with me? Despite the fact that there are no other pressing items on my agenda, I seem unable to sit down and read, or sit down and write, or sit down and think even a little bit. I feel restless.

On a walk the other day with my kind and generous critical friend Jenny, she asked me why I was so unsettled. I really needed someone to ask me this, because despite my roiling insides I hadn't thought about it at all. After several moments of silence I replied that I think maybe I'm tired. I'm sleeping better than ever, I'm active, I'm eating well, I'm increasing my iron stores - but still tired. Only it's a different fatigue, one I haven't experienced before. My body is not tired, but my emotions are; maybe my soul is tired. I am tired of learning about myself. I am tired of reflecting all the time. I'm tired of continuously revving my self awareness. Like a head-strong toddler or a hormonal teenager, I DON'T WANT TO LEARN ANY MORE. Instead, I would much rather watch a mindless rom-com, paint my finger nails, and bake some cookies.


But, I know I'm not done. So, guilt enters stage right. With the luxury of all this time, I should be earnestly plugging away at The Significance Project. That twinge I feel to the left of my esophagus and just above my heart is guilt, and it's just waiting to light up my anxiety like a bottle of lighter fluid with a flaming match. And I know, because I used to teach it for goodness sake, that this is a classic case of procrastination.


You all know it, you've all done it. Procrastination is defined as an unnecessary delay; it is irrationally putting off a task for another time (Steel, 2007). Although the notion of procrastination has been around forever, I find it interesting that it didn't really pick up steam until the late 18th century, around the time of the industrial revolution, when deadlines became economic drivers (Steel, 2007). As far as I can tell, this also marked the onset of a broad scale indoctrination into the cult of productivity, or the socially-informed, persistent feeling that we must get stuff done. Regardless of origins, procrastination can have some rather profound effects one's sense of self-worth (Klassen et al., 2008), which is what I am grappling with at this very moment.


There has been some psychologically-based talk indicating that procrastination might actually be a personality trait, but I don't buy it. What if we procrastinate because we're tired--emotionally or otherwise--as I am right now? I ask this because I'm a pretty organized person, and procrastination has typically only been an issue for me if I find a task downright distasteful (like preparing the taxes, for example). I don't think that any amount of planning or scheduling would help me right now; it would only make me feel worse. What if, at least in some cases, the secret to addressing procrastination lies in re-framing our ideas about productivity instead of trying to beat it into submission with a frenzy of calendared work time? What if time is not what we think it is?


I read a quote once that was something like - "you can't force a plant to grow any faster than nature will allow." I remember it made me think about poppies, like the one pictured here. They're among my favorite flowers, and I always wait anxiously for the poppies to bloom when spring rolls around. But, no matter how often I check back on the buds, they're going to take their sweet time; they're going to take exactly the amount of time they need.


Maybe I need to take exactly the amount of time I need, too.




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