I am the great keeper of lists. To-do lists. Short/long-term goals. Books to be read. Movie to be seen. Art exhibits. New plays. Restaurants. Recipes. And of course, the massive bucket list - which is all about travel.
And yet, I can’t seem to get through any of them - except travel and theatre!
Mind you, when I was working, that was a different story. Granted I may have procrastinated the really onerous tasks (like the annual budget) but I always met my deadlines.
I keep my to-do list as placeholders on my electronic calendar. It makes it easy to move them from one day to the next, or more likely, one week to the next.
Why can’t I seem to get off the dime?
I’m not lazy by nature but I can certainly be lazy. And in retirement, I’m good at it. But yet, I still feel guilty when I’m not in motion.
If I’m responsible to someone for something, I will get it done. Or if I’m getting paid to do it.
But why do I put me last?
A friend suggested I may have ADHD. Could be. I fit some of the ADHD profile. I flit from one thing to another. In rapid speed. Not always the most efficient way to get things done! My mind works in double time. I need things like podcasts, the rosary, etc. to calm my mind. To distract me. To slow me down.
The question is, however, what to do?
I’ve read a lot of articles (just like the ones I’ve read about why I don’t sleep). The advice is the same: meds (of course), hire a coach, establish a routine, etc.
The funny thing is this: once I do get going on a task, I’m in! I am motivated to complete it. That wonderful sense of accomplishment! The ability to check the box.
I just always have trouble getting started.
Here’s a real life example. I always kept my Pocono cottage neat and clean. Why? I had guests every weekend. But my NYC apartment? I treat it like a weigh station. I’m in and out. Unpack, laundry, re-pack. No real commitment to being there for any length of time.
Unfortunately, the apartment is the project that looms over my head. An accumulation of 40+ years of stuff, coupled with boxes from my parents’ house and my Pocono house.
The boxes from my parents’ house pain me. Every box I open has me in tears, 10+ years later. I know I need to rip the bandaid off. But it’s so much easier to ignore it and go to happy hour.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Almost every day I intend on doing something.
But for now, I’m off to a lunch date. After all, in the words of Scarlett O’Hara “Tomorrow is another day!”
Need a little inspiration? Here’s a page dedicated to getting past the dread of getting started! It’s not always as bad as it seems!
Does anyone share my pain? If so, what strategies have worked for you? Let us know in the comments.
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