Rarely is the excuse for procrastination valid. It is most often strongly invalid, whatever it is. Or is it?
The fact remains–you didn’t do the thing you said you were going to do when you said you were going to do it. Period. You didn’t do it. You didn’t do it well, and/or you didn’t do it on time. But why not?
When our natural behavior isn’t organic, when it’s harnessed, dictated, or without clear direction or intention, it slows and eventually stops. The time it takes and how long it lasts, well, that varies.
Knowing there’s a deadline can either excite or paralyze.
Lisa
When it doesn’t feel right for me to write, I stop. And then I don’t start again sometimes for days or weeks. I continue to procrastinate. Sometimes it stops for months. And yet I continue to put it off. The brain science behind procrastination-tied-to-emotion dives deep; by definition, it is a transitive verb: to put off the doing of something intentionally and habitually.
I don’t believe mine is intentional, but it is starting to feel habitual. Interesting.
In my case, I’m discovering that writing blocks (today’s topic of procrastination) come when the thing I’m trying to write feels forced. Or when I’m frustrated or when ideas aren’t clear in my mind yet, so I can’t easily put them on paper. And then knowing there’s a deadline can either excite or paralyze.
A second layer (beyond forcing whatever I’m desiring to write about) reveals itself when other areas of my life feel that same restraint, dictation, or uncertainty relating to external circumstances. Alas, there is an internal shift that happens to ultimately interrupt the procrastination. Silent. Stealthy. Seemingly suddenly.
I’m still discovering what exactly makes it “snap back” or what causes the switch to flip so that I’m easily writing again, and doing the thing I said I wanted and intended to do–like posting my blog on time.