it’s a loop
A few months ago, I applied for a writing fellowship, which I didn’t end up getting. But the process of working on that application wrecked me completely and revealed something about the way I work that I hadn’t noticed in such a glaring way before.
There are parts of yourself you’re aware of but never care to probe into, because it’s uncomfortable to sit with your thoughts and question why you did what you did, especially when you have ten thousand ways at your fingertips to drown it all. And drown I did, until today — when I’m here, forced to think about it, to make sense of it, and, well, write about it.
I procrastinate a lot — maybe all of us do — and while I know that procrastination can, at times, be good for creative people, I also know that if left unattended, it can be crippling to the point where, forget about working on the task at hand, you find it absolutely impossible to even sit at your desk. There are theories and articles and books written about how the reason for procrastination isn’t laziness or lack of ambition, but I’m guilty of never paying attention to any of it.
Paying attention requires effort and introspection, while labeling yourself lazy is the easiest thing to do. The problem, though, is — where do you go from there? Now that you’ve decided you’re lazy, what do you do? Bask in that laziness? Make peace with it? Die in shame? What do you do? Mostly, you end up doing nothing. You procrastinate, feel shame, get anxious, procrastinate more. It’s a loop — a loop I find myself stuck in often. How long I stay stuck really depends on how I ended up in the loop in the first place.
I didn’t sit at my writing desk for an entire week a few days ago — not because I was busy or sick or had other priorities. There was absolutely no tangible reason. I just couldn’t make myself sit at the desk, despite having all the time in the world. I was extremely anxious, constantly thinking about the drafts I’ve abandoned and need to go back to. But I kept going about my day, doing the routine things I have to do to sustain myself: eat, sleep, work. I was making impromptu plans to not think about writing, but I was still thinking about it. Compulsively. All the time. And then, after a week of torture, I had the epiphany — the déjà vu moment — and I realized I had been here before. I had been in this exact loop while working on that fellowship application.
The reason for being in this loop was — finally, fortunately — right there in front of me. And it didn’t scare or intimidate me, but was actually a relief. It was like being diagnosed and finally having a name for a disease you’ve been suffering from for a long time because now you’ve finally identified the problem at hand — a necessary prerequisite for solving it. My problem was being way too invested in the result or the output of a process while knowing that I can do nothing to control it. I procrastinated 100x more when I cared deeply — and a little too much — about getting the thing I was working towards.
Deadlines motivated me, but once in a while, when a deadline came along for something I’d wanted for a long time — something that could potentially change my life or fulfill the dreams I’ve been toiling for — I would almost freeze. This situation is bad for any kind of work, I imagine, but for writing it’s especially worse because the longer you take to return to a draft, the scarier it becomes.
Procrastination pollutes joy. You might be having a ball lying on your bed watching your favorite show, but at the back of your head there’s a constant nagging voice telling you time is running out. You aren’t really having a ball then, are you? When you’re procrastinating, you’re not able to rest even while resting, and you’re not actually having fun even while having fun. And that’s exhausting.
I have no advice for you — not at the moment, at least. I haven’t figured out how to stay out of the loop myself yet. But now that I know the reason I’m not able to work towards this deadline is because I’m too worried and too obsessed with the result, I’m going to try and care a little less. I’m going to tell myself, repeatedly, that I am only responsible for working towards it. Try and give my best. And then, quickly, move on to the next thing. That is literally all I can do. And I have to allow myself to do that much.
Sorry for being a day late, but if you’ve made it this far, thank you. I’m genuinely grateful. This is the 25th essay in a series of 40 that I’m publishing this year, every Sunday.
This, exactly this is what I needed to hear. Thanks for sharing