Why Can’t I Stop Procrastinating?
By: Ellie Guzman
Tags: Life, Self, Procrastination, Mental Health, Writing

Photo by Luis Villasmil on Unsplash

This piece isn’t an answer. It’s not some kind of insight, or magic moment. If anything, it’s more procrastinating.

I want to do the things I have to do. I want to work on my script rewrites. I mean, are you kidding me?! I never thought I could actually write for money, and now I have this beautiful magical opportunity, and I really truly am excited about it and appreciate it, and yes writing is hard but it’s so much fun, but I feel incapable of starting it.

It’s not just writing; I procrastinate cleaning, I procrastinate texting back, some days I even procrastinate taking a shower. I‘m not proud of it but sometimes I’ve even procrastinated feeding myself, feeling the pang of hunger and knowing all I have to do is walk to the fridge to get a prepackaged salad. And yet somehow I remain planted to my desk chair.

I’m not depressed; I’ve known depression and I know what it looks like, and I know this isn’t that. This is more so like a car that won’t start. I want to go to my next destination, very much actually, but when I put the key in the ignition it seems to just putter and stall out. More accurately, I want to put my key in the ignition and I’m holding the key in my hand and I’m sitting in the car but I’m somehow just static, unable to move my wrist downward to do it because my brain seems to be moving a million miles a minute and yet not moving at all. My head is buzzing but it’s also still. I don’t understand it.

I know this is a symptom of the pandemic and being quarantined. Being an overweight asthmatic on an immunosuppressive steroid, I have been particularly religious about quarantine and haven’t hugged my own mother who lives twenty minutes from me since March. However I also know deep down this is a problem I’ve always had. I did this in high school, and I did it in college, and I’m doing it now. Generally I’ve been able to push through it or miraculously work around it, but quarantine and the combination of a giant workload yet unending listlessness seems to have exacerbated it.

The thing is, I do my day job as a (now remote) script coordinator really freaking well. I meet my deadlines and if anything I anticipate future issues. And also, even when I procrastinate, scripts and materials are turned in before deadline. The procrastination impacts things more on my end than it does on the actual project’s side. A little voice in the back of my head is screaming that I have ADHD but I think the fact that I perform so well at my day job and with deadlines negates that. You can’t pick and choose when you have attention deficit, right? If you can’t focus but still turn things in within deadline, is that ADHD? I honestly don’t know. I know I should see a therapist, but again, procrastination.

The biggest thing I’m procrastinating about right now is these rewrites that I really have to do. And listen, I care deeply about these rewrites. This (unannounced) show means the world to me. And also, I’m looking forward to them! They will only make the script better. So then is that the issue? That when I really care I cut myself off at the knees by procrastinating? But see, that doesn’t track, because for the most part when I’ve written things I cared about, I’ve surpassed deadlines. I used to be so proud of that when it happened.

I think deep down I know what the issue is. I have to confront the ugly thing that I know deep down is true. I mean honestly, if you’ve read this far, you probably know it too.

I’m sad. And I procrastinate when I’m sad. And I’m fucking sad. Oh my god, I am so sad.

In college I procrastinated like hell when I was going through really difficult personal family issues. After college I procrastinated when I was deeply insecure about what my path was. Now in my late 20s, I seem to be procrastinating at an all time high when I, fully, deep down in my core, could cry at the drop of a hat. I miss hugging my parents. I miss whispering shady comments to my little sister. I miss grabbing my boyfriend’s face and holding his hand and ordering different boba drinks so we could try them both. I miss going on adventures with my friends. I miss wandering the aisles at Target. But more than anything I miss not being hyper aware of my own fleeting mortality from the morning I wake up to the moment I finally lose the struggle and drift off to sleep.

I’m just tired. And even if I take time off work and go “easy” on myself I’m still tired. But this needs to get done, so I’m going to go get it done.

I don’t have a cure for it or anything wise to say. I’m frustrated and stuck and I have to work up some momentum to push through the fog. So I’m going to go do that. Right now. I’m going now. Bye. I’m going to go do it right now. One sec. Okay I’m ready. Doing it now. Yup. Heading off. Now’s the time.

Maybe later.