I’ve been putting off writing this blog post, which
is ironic, because this week’s topic is self-discipline. I made the decision several hours ago that I
would work on a blog post today. But
first I had to mow the lawn (which didn’t get done because it started to rain),
and then I had to shower and then I felt I deserved a break, so I watched an
episode of a television show—a long episode.
Then I had to feed the cat and do laundry and get some dinner, which
meant watching something else, and after all of that I still wasted about thirty
minutes on Pinterest.
Why
is it so hard to get started on things?
It is the getting started that is the hard part. I don’t expect this post to take much longer
than ten minutes to write. I have to
have plans and organization and goals for myself, and still I don’t always
listen when I say to myself that something has to get done. For me, self-discipline is a constant
argument with myself, and it is a difficult one to win, because I have learned
to rationalize everything. I convince
myself that my writing is lower quality when I force myself, that after a long
day of work I need some time to rest, that it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if I
miss a post this week (although it’s been more than a month since I posted anything). And just as often, I don’t even bother to
have the debate, but simply settle down to what is easy.
The
lure of instant gratification is a powerful one. Logically I know that if I work hard, get my
work done, put myself out there, I have a far better chance to be a success—but
for tonight, for now, I am tired, and it is so comfortable here in the chair
and I don’t want to get up—sound familiar?
I
don’t have any magic fix for this, I’m afraid.
As I said above, I spent this very day procrastinating and lazing
around. The only thing that I’ve found
to be effective is time, and constant reminders of what needs to get done. For me, there is a reminder hanging on the
wall by my desk of today’s task, be it writing or editing or blogging. It is clearly visible whenever I look up at
the clock or turn to the window, and it always gives me a little pang of guilt
if I’m goofing off. Eventually, I get
the work done, just to be able to move it off the wall.
Sounds
silly, but it works, because it means I have set expectations for myself, and
if I can’t meet those, I am only letting myself down. And if I can’t meet my own standards, how can
I expect to measure up to anyone else’s?
