The Art of Getting By, Without Getting Anything Done
Tags: Self Improvement, Life, Therapy, Procrastination, Life Lessons

At the time of writing this, it would have been five months since I decided I wanted to ‘start writing stuff.’

I had no clear idea in my head of what it was I wanted to do, just the beginnings of grand concepts I would sit and ruminate about for days and days. This turned into weeks, and then months of daydreaming, all of which was time I could have used to actually develop something. Or maybe send off just one goddamn job application.

Did I want to be a political commentator? Possibly, but did I want to be my dad? Did I want to write book and film reviews? This would be fun, but it would also mean I would actually have to start on my reading list on my Goodreads, and watch the list of films that have been accumulating on my Letterboxd. Did I want to research and write about specific segments of history of the Kurds? Of course, I long to know more about my heritage, but respectfully, there is a fuck ton of it, so where do I start?

Then came the issue of platform. Initially, Wordpress seemed a possibility, but after my first couple attempts of learning how to use it I lost interest, very quickly. The only thing I had to show for it were the fifteen tabs I kept open for weeks on end because I told myself I will get back to it, I swear. Why did I spend maybe a whole month kidding myself that I could start a website anyway? By the way, it is absolutely not that hard, I just got bored.

Whenever I had sat down and tried to begin, everything in my head seemed so much better than it was in real life. I eventually concluded, some things are better left a fantasy. Less work, more instant gratification, no disappointment. Hence, it has taken me this long to submit a blog post, but hey at least it’s given me something to write about.

However the enigma is this: whenever I sat and faced my thoughts, I really did want to research those topics, read those books, watch those films and comment on the shambolic leadership of this country. I wanted to go, go, go! But my brain felt so heavy and I could not make sense of a single thought clearly. My therapist would later accurately describe it to me as ‘brain fog.’ It was so thick and it would turn me into a mess at my desk. I would have an empty Google doc open, excel spreadsheets of incomplete job applications, a Google search on masters in Europe because I suddenly decided I wanted to go into public policy and live in Switzerland, and list after list of what I needed to do because organising my tasks meant I could delay starting them. All the while, my room is piling up in a mess, and until it was tidy I could not start anything anyway.

But I wanted to do it all so incredibly badly. I just couldn’t start or finish. No matter how hard I tried. It was this desire to go coupled with the severe inability to start that would eventually depress me. My dopamine levels wake up and choose violence every day.

Along with various other fun life events (Hey Google, play ‘Shout Out to My Ex’), this build up of frustration led to a period of low moods and poor lifestyle habits. Suddenly, I was beginning to think I was just lazy and incompetent. I could not get out of bed, stick to a plan, complete any task on my to-do list or even read. I sometimes still move my finger along the page to make sure I am not skipping words, or to help me maintain concentration.

So naturally, self-hatred and (intensified) low self-esteem waltzed gleefully into my life. And boy did they do a number on me. This was not something completely new to my life, or something I had even been unaware I struggled with, it just got harder to manage and stay on top of.

I did not know it at the time, but it was not because I am not capable, I just procrastinate, and I would later learn some of it is out of my control. For instance, I left my dissertation to a week or so before the (extended) deadline, but it got done, so I saw no issue. It was a really fun week, by the way.

So, fast forward four months, and I finally decided to seek therapy. Yes, I was depressed (surprise surprise), but my therapist also told me I need to get an ADHD test done pronto.*

Although this was not a complete surprise, I was initially just a little skeptical. I wasn’t sure if I could accept it was ADHD causing my problems, because I was just being lazy, right? Surely, there was no way it was anything more than my avoidant personality and idleness making me fall behind? I was just being who I always was, slow and incapable.

All, wrong!

Thus, one conversation with my therapist made me painstakingly aware, and upset, at how poorly I treat myself, and at how negatively I think of myself. Again, this wasn’t new. I can safely say with absolutely no shame, my entire adult life thus far has consisted of plenty of decisions which were not in my best interest. My self-care habits have not been great.

But we all make bad decisions, not only because they’re so much easier than the good ones, but because they are more likely to bring us instant gratification. It could be an impulsive buy, believing with your entire soul and being you can, of course, handle another drink, or texting back your ex. We aren’t rational thinkers, and I think I’m okay with it for now.

So, whether it was the nature of a therapy session that causes you to think in ways you do not normally do, or if I had finally, after several hard months, reached a point where I was looking at myself in the mirror and wanting to no longer feel this way, something seemed to change. I was so aware of how badly I was treating myself, and I wanted to improve my self-care.

Fast forward to a month after that breakdown in my therapist’s office, and I was slowly doing things differently. I semi-consistently exercise and actually enjoy it, I sleep better (hm, generally), I journal now (this has been the most consistent and wow, has it changed my life) and I tried my hardest to treat myself as I would a friend that was struggling. It has not been easy; I slipped up multiple times, and continue to do so, but I’m taking small steps and I can feel it slowly paying off. Nor do I think it is the end of the world when I fall behind now too. Yet after all of this, I was still struggling severely with my focus, and those Google docs were still empty, and haunting me.

So, during this entire month of, essentially, the beginning of a rebirth in how I look at myself, I could not help but think of what my therapist had said about my habits and ADHD, which she suspected was causing my low moods. In a way, this realisation has helped to create a shift in my mind in how I perceive myself.

I am not lazy or incompetent.

It took me three months, but I did eventually send off just three graduate scheme applications (I got rejected from two but hey, we move).

It took me five months, but I did finally start writing and I enjoyed it.

It took me even longer than that (six months, maybe?) to get a part time job I actually committed to, after rejecting or flaking at the last second on at least four previously, but I am now finally employed.

I no longer sit in frustration and in tears because I had to reread a sentence eight times over to understand it, because I know it does not mean I am worth less. It’s actually okay.

And I know I will not die because I did not start and finish an episode of a podcast I suddenly wanted to create at 1AM.

In reality, I am not getting things done faster after all of this, and I still have some way to go, but it does not cause me so much pain anymore. Nor does it mean I am broken or behind, because rather than focus on how far I have to go, I can see how far I have come.

I am not the CEO of self-love or dealing with things, because I know I am not perfect. But the difference is now, I do not hate myself for it. I see myself for who I am more clearly, and the view from this window is so much brighter.

*If anybody would like to fund my ADHD test, please message.