I have the spiritual gift of procrastination.
It’s actually a disease, rooted in avoidance.
“I do my best writing at 11pm the night before a deadline,” I lie to myself.
“The board meeting packet will be super up to date when I pull the Quickbooks report at 1am before we meet at 9am,” I try to make myself believe.
“We’ll sit down and do our personal budget NEXT month,” as I hit “add to cart” on another pair of Nike’s.
There’s some beauty in being crunched for time. You crush it and get stuff done.
But there’s also a terrible tragedy.
The mental anguish of avoiding the work shows up in fatigue, frustration, and the foe of anxiety we know all too well.
It’s a hard path for me, but better is the way of slow and steady, showing up each day, rolling up the proverbial sleeves, and just chipping away at it.
Head down, chopping wood, taking baby steps forward.
When you do that long enough, a weird, mysterious thing happens.
You look around and realize you’re a long way from where you started. And you’re a different human because of it.
Tiny step Tuesday, start chopping.
