Perfectionism, Procrastination, and Pest Control
The real ones know that I’m notorious for skipping over pleasantries.
Like brushing your teeth first thing, it’s routine for my friends to receive a text from me without a shred of context.
Even if weeks have passed with zero communication, I’ll gladly send a spontaneous text that’s completely out of left field - totally excluding a conversational lubricant like “hey, how are you?”
And truthfully, that impetuous behavior hasn’t served me (or those on the receiving end) well.
During childhood, I never hesitated to yank out my baby teeth.
Quite the contrary - if one of my incisors even considered the possibility of being wobbly, I’d lose sleep to ensure a successful extraction.
Little has changed. When it comes to taking action, I tend to strike while the iron is hot. Ripping off a band-aid seems more palatable than a cautious, slow burn removal.
Operating at a steady, sustainable pace comes as a challenge. Aren’t we all striving for more balance?
I’ve spent seasons detoxing, repeatedly uncovering sobriety in silence and stillness.
It was soil cultivation that brought an earthy realization: perfectionism is a prudent pest, discreetly camouflaging itself among dandelion and clover, praying the resident gardener never gets around to weeding.
See, living and breathing in America requires a certain dexterity.
Absolutely no one is jobless- the ringmasters demand constant juggling: cost of living, food expenses, healthcare, reliable transportation.
Feeling overwhelmed is an adverse side effect of capitalism, and the circus directors don’t offer complementary earplugs with the purchase of a large popcorn.
It’s irritatingly normal (not natural) to feel frazzled, stressed, depleted.
And then…abruptly, a flash of beauty miraculously interrupts brainwaves that are headed for a spiral.
The fog lifts and I hear at least three kinds of songbirds.
Above me, a baby blue blanket is embroidered with cottony cumulus clouds.
When my vision finally shifts toward the ground, I notice a crimson ladybug curiously searching for aphids.
A single breath brings me back to center. Ah, my attention. I greet her warmly, even though she never actually left. I just stopped caring for her momentarily.
Okay, back to the soil. The garden of my heart. And the weeds I halfheartedly tried to ignore.
The volume of unnecessary vegetation is obvious.
Ever-present mental chatter reminds me: failure to conduct weed removal comes at a cost.
Weeds are competitive. Pernicious in nature, they grow faster than crops like cauliflower, leeks, or potatoes. They’ll vie for nutrients in the soil and block out sunlight required for successful vegetable growth.
Everything that grows in a garden has a root zone. When a plant is crowded, personal space invaded by weeds, crops become compromised- stressed and susceptible to disease.
Weeds have their own agenda - they strategically camouflage pests, which damage crops and decrease harvest.
I’m not conducting rocket science, here. Perhaps these thoughts are more reminiscent of an Environmental Science course, completed junior year of high school. So I’ll refrain from embellishment.
Your brain? It’s the soil, buzzing and bursting with potential. A potent elixir divinely capable of bringing forth every promise that spring offers. Full of varieties like dill, parsley, and fennel, an ecosystem that effortlessly attracts pollen peddlers and Painted Lady butterflies.
The downside? Even the most verdant, enchanting gardens are susceptible to bothersome, disease-promoting pests. Like procrastination.
If your reasoning skills are firing on all cylinders, you can probably deduce: the following lines are supporting details on the aforementioned p-word.
Your hypothesis is correct.
In February 2024, Leonid Kleus published 8 minutes and 58 seconds of black and white footage on YouTube in a video titled, “An Inquiry Into The Price of Time.”
In the short film, Kleus reminds viewers: “Time is a limited resource.”
So if this thing we cannot touch is truly finite, why do we waste it by perpetuating seemingly unkickable habits?
Like gossiping or speculating about what others think.
Incessantly checking email, doom scrolling, putting off irksome errands for a later date.
Has anyone ever completed the above tasks and felt better for it?
Or is this low-grade, everyday bullshit robbing humanity of peace, presence, and purpose, even if momentarily?
Those moments (distractions) add up, compounding like an inhospitable interest rate.
And while I’m certainly a fan of the viral marketing campaign, Spotify Wrapped, I do not wish to receive a year-end receipt explicitly pinpointing all of the ways I wasted time.
In a podcast by REV Optimal Living, Dr. Monica Smith provides an unconventional list of what she calls, “energy suckers” - things that quietly diminish overall vitality. And aren’t necessarily turning up on a google search.
Topping the charts for #1 activity that contributes to feelings of fatigue? Procrastination.
And I have to admit, she’s right.
Those tiny (but somehow massively daunting) tasks that I prefer to put off - tending to my sourdough starter, laundry, politely declining an invitation - the weight of each stacks up over time, repeatedly embezzling my mental space.
I’m throwing caution to the wind, delaying the inevitability of those chores. And making a nasty assumption that I’ll somehow feel different about them later.
A friend offered some lucrative advice on the topic: “Avoid the trap of viewing future you as some abstract entity whose emotions and desires will be different from the present you.”
To hastily withdraw hope from a bank where there’s zero trust? It’s futile, like trying to build generational wealth via a business model of playing slot machines.
Every time I aim to convince myself that a future version of me will courageously emerge and make the decision not to procrastinate, I’m obfuscating responsibility and actively shapeshifting into full clown garb.
Why?
Why would the current version of me, today, burden a future version of me with an impossibly heavy load of responsibilities? It’s reckless and only perpetuates that impetuous attitude I touched on earlier.
Plus, all we really have…is now.
So I’ll build more trust within me - today.
I’ll take care of the laundry because I have time. The hungry starter will be fed because making blueberry bagels brings joy.
Enough about me. Here’s to you, dear reader.
May you procrastinate less and strike regardless of the temperature of the metaphorical iron.
May you take a deep breath, renew that insurance policy, and clean out the fridge.
I hope you’ll start a new hobby, thin out your closet, and book the flight.
Call your friend and floss your teeth.
Seize the day because tomorrow is not promised.
Progress beats perfection every time baby!
xx
