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Procrastination in its purest form…

I don’t even know how or where my ability to be so fucking useless comes from, I think it’s been with me my entire life.

Here we are another few days after my last post, disappointed again in my lack of motivation to write, my open blog spot haunting me from my iPad screen every time i sit at my cluttered desk to start my day.


Even now as i write this, knowing i just need to put these books away-we have the liquor cabinet finally in position-i cant move past the mountain of other things i need to do. Why this need to have A, B and C lined up before i start D when nothing has any actual bearing on the other to be done, I don’t know.  I get the discomfort and pain that comes with healing, but I am not going to pretend I haven’t always been like this.  And where did this stunning ability to procrastinate come from? Was it the young, hippie parents and lack of structure?  Is it some kind of genetic thing thats come down my line and i cant help it?


Even now as i am sat here writing this, i have picked up my phone and done a deep dive into my superannuation…because…?  Some may say it’s ADHD, but is it?! As much as I would love to be medicated for it, I just don’t think I suffer.  This leads me to wonder too, if my depression and anxiety all just stems from my inane ability to do nothing, to put off the simplest of tasks until im under an immense amount of pressure and cracks start letting out the steam and i have to do the thing before i pop.


That’s how i am here now, as i potter around the whare, ignoring the mess, getting upset at ignored feelings, unanswered messages and the state of the planet, I am about to pop. This exercise is to help me get all this out before I try and be semi social with a bunch of people who have not replied my texts or attempted to check in on me since the last time I had to track them down to elicit some kind of communication.  All of this normally wouldn’t upset me as much but due to the fact that it’s something that we are meant to be keeping up as part of my recovery its a constant. And (again here is me trying to place blame anywhere but myself) my therapist is out of the country, so I’m left with this paranoia and feeling that no one actually gives a shit about me or my situation. 


The only plus to my downward spiral is im not dealing with it like the Me of the past…well not exactly.  Yesterday I did drop money I don’t have (or should be saving) on some gifts for myself and a brunch date with my adopted nephew, but man did it make me feel good…a little guilty but mostly good.  It’s part of my apprehension to leave the whare, like I want to shop and solo dine, I want to drink and do drugs and go to a club or industry event and get loose, I want a haircut and new clothes and like 10 tattoos….but I cant really afford to (not that its stopped me in the past) but its a part of my life that I have been missing since being so isolated.  Like being left alone would be a dream if I only had to consider myself, and oh how I would love to only have to consider myself.  I feel like I would be a better person if I were more selfish.

I have sat here for close to an hour, due to my ability to procrastinate so well, this is where I will leave todays exercise as I try to achieve some goals.

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