There’s this dull throb of positive obsession brewing in the back of my skull. Does that make sense? Let me try to make sense of this.
I can’t shake it. I don’t actively obsess over it, but rather I passively obsess. To be active would be to take actual action and do something with the thought. Instead, I let it simmer in the background, teasing me. Delayed gratification. I love delaying gratification. It feels like a brand of procrastination that’s almost admirable. Like I have the willpower to put off the best for last.
In this case, the best part is thinking the full thought.
It’ll pop in my head while I’m working out, but I push it back as too exciting and too important to think about right now. It’s like there’s this mythical better time to enjoy the thought. I can’t quite allow myself the pleasure of its company. I want to love it and own it and get real close with it, but to be honest, resistance is stopping me.
I’m being fucking lazy, guys. I’m scared to take action because action is work, and work is hard, and I might fail and I might succeed and I don’t know.
As a coach, I tell my clients to set up conditions for inevitable success such that follow through is inevitable. The idea is that we manipulate our environments such that they work for us. Our environments ought to support our visions and goals. I’m a big fan of this idea, which is why I stapled my manifestation list to my wall. I read it every goddamn day, and every goddamn day I passively think about item number one.
That book that I told myself I would publish this year. First of all, what the hell? Second of all, it seems a good time (day 4 into my self-imposed 365-day deadline) to share that I have no clue what this book will be about. Also, how do you get a book published? Doesn’t that take time?
It will certainly be nonfiction, but beyond that, I do not know.
Perhaps now is also a good time to indulge the thought I’ve been putting off. I need to figure out what to write about.
No, first I need to figure out when I am going to write.
It could take me all year to narrow down a topic or premise for the book, but if I could commit to just writing at regular intervals, then at very least I can guarantee that something will be written. Writing is the real mission. The book is just the stacked pages of shit I wrote down.
Maybe that’s what I should write a book about: all the things I sit down to write about over the course of the year, whatever that turns out to be. I have serious hopes for this strategy. I do have a looming manifestation list that needs tending to. That’s sure to spark some juicy juice and get the good stuff flowing.
That’s what I’ll write about. Naturally.
But when to write? I tell myself that early morning is my most creative time, but in reality, the creative juices can flow whenever I allow them to. I just need to allow them to. Not writing in the morning is my favorite weak excuse. Oh, I didn’t write at 5:30AM when I told myself I would? Guess I’m not writing today. Try again tomorrow.
Sound familiar? I’m a professional at making elaborate schedules, not following through, and subsequently promising myself that tomorrow is a new day.
As a side note, today I talked with my life coach (aka my younger sister who happens to also be a coach) and she guided me through my brain, where I discovered that my misguided love affair with my color-coded calendar is both my attempt to grasp at control in my life and a form of OCD holding me back from feeling accomplished when I really should.
For example, and then I will get back to the previous tangent that is this post, but just for example, yesterday I had time blocked my day to include at least 5 different colored activities, each logically aligned throughout my day to give me a sense of balance and purpose. It was going to be the perfect productive day. But I spent the entire day doing just 2 things: finishing an online specialization in Positive Psychology and working my ass off for an hour at the gym. Despite having had a highly focused and productive day, I counted the day as a failure because I’d failed to follow the regimented schedule I’d prescribed myself.
This is a problem. See why? My day was kickass. I should celebrate.
What about that regimented schedule needed adhering to? I created it, can’t I just destroy it?
The point is, any time is a good time to get stuff done, and not following a structure is fine as long as time is used wisely.
To be honest, I feel a little lost in my thoughts right now. Let’s reign it back to right now.
It’s nearly 7 o’clock in the evening right now, a time normally reserved for reading in bed in my cat pajamas and nodding as Tyler calls me a grandma. But instead, I find myself on the couch writing.
There is space for both structure and flexibility. Somehow, I need to marry these dualities and birth a beautiful book.