You guys, if procrastination was a job – I would win.

Wait – that does not even make sense.

So many days I feel as if I am ramping up for take off.  I’ve got lists and stacks and piles.  I feel as if I work all day on something (I don’t know what) and then, at the end of the day, I’m still standing here, sort of empty-handed, maybe two things checked off the list, sixteen more things added, one pile shoved under the table and another stack carried outside and nothing really feels accomplished or completed.

Pretty much like I’m already defeated.  Like maybe I can’t win.  (Except at procrastinating – if that were a job.  Which it isn’t.)

Pre-Colorado trip I felt the same way – right?  Like I was gearing up.  Like I was fast driving, fast sledding, fast biking, fast running, fast some sort of movement that is just the other side of safe, just the far side of control.  I knew it seemed as if I was gearing up to veer off course, to explode, to implode, to wind up covered in sand in a sand sledding explosion.  (Well, I did do that.  But in a fun way.  Not in the metaphorical way in which I speak right now.)

And so I was grateful for what I thought would be the off ramp of Colorado.  The reset of the ranch.  The exit sign.  The forced seclusion and stepping off the plate.

While I was there, it was glorious.  Putting down all the lists didn’t hurt at all.  I wasn’t missing them or longing for them or out of control without them.  I didn’t need them or desire them or want them.  I told a friend that I felt like my best self in Colorado – my favorite version of me.  Funny.  Light-hearted.  Quick to laugh.  Easy-going.  The best me.

I told myself, “I’ll hold onto this when I re-enter the world as I know it.  When my lists take legs and walk themselves over to me.  I’ll hold on to this light longer.  I’ll use this reset button to propel me to calmer days, slower moments, less screen.”  All the things I want to be true.

And here I am.  Maybe three weeks out.  All revved up.  All amped up.  Again.

I haven’t redeemed my days or found that happy medium to balance work and writing and home and parenting.  I haven’t eased into anything or eased out of anything.  My lists need Cliff Notes.  I’m already 80 mph, oblivious to life and regular sleeping hours and managing time wisely.

It’s frantic again.  The pace at which I move.  Like I’ve embraced the whirlwind.  Like I’ve taken up residence within the whirlwind actually.

I wake up and I think – I’ll try that block schedule idea – one hour for each task and then move along.  I’ll try setting a timer.  I’ll do the next thing.  I’ll try one task at a time.  I think all the thoughts and I say all the words.

And then, as I lie in bed at far too late of an hour, I sigh and I think – maybe tomorrow?

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