Bringing Mae Flowers

I never finish anything.

It’s a fact about myself that I’ve come to accepted about myself, the same way I’ve accepted that I’ll always be short and my smile will always be uneven. It’s something that appears to be written into my DNA- the procrastinator gene.

It’s not that I’ve given up, I just stop.

I have half-finished sewing projects waiting for final stitches, half-finished books waiting to be read, and half-finished stories waiting for their endings- all of which I saw I’ll return to “eventually”. But even when I do, I pick them up with great enthusiasm, just to drop them again.

I’ve tried all sorts of tricks to see things through.

I’ve tried star charts and schedules, calendar reminders and accountability partners- but nothing works for more than a few weeks. My brain seems determined to jump from project to project with enthusiastic abandon- and I’ve all but given up on functioning any other way.

I hear there are ways to make procrastination work for you.

Some say that task hopping can help you accomplish more in the long-term by allowing you to finish multiple projects in spurts, instead of focusing all your energy on one. I’ve tried to use that knowledge to encourage me, but all it did was move the goal. At least now instead of feeling like I’ve failed, I just move the due date down the road.

In a strange way, I actually like the way I am.

I find a strange since of comfort in all the projects I’ve left undone. After a few years they become a familiar fixture in my life. Always waiting in the same place I left them when my motivation waned. They linger around like old friends I can revisit whenever the mood strikes- ready to be picked up again.