even myself. I couldn't sleep or eat. My weight dropped to a dangerous
93 pounds. I despaired to the point of death. I welcomed it, prayed for it; contemplated it.
Depressive procrastination was a relentless dictator; there was no leniency, no reprieve. I was its slave. Living on a merry-go-around of torment, I was depressed so I procrastinated; procrastination depressed me. I seemed destined to ride the horse forever. When the carni came to claim another token, it was time to ride or dismount. With what little there was left of me, I made my resolve.
Regaining my will didn't make it so, there was something lacking in the doing. How would I defeat this task master? Procrastination seemed so much bigger than I. It was a black hole from which there was no ladder to ascend. I would have to face my giant as David had Goliath. Alone. My slingshots and stones would be schedules and lists. I would fight one Philistine at a time.
Procrastination deceives us all. Its voice echoed through my mind like thunder, "you can't, you're too tired; rest first". I whispered in rebut that exhaustion and depression would envelope me whether I moved or laid still. Why not pull myself up? The words fell on my own deaf ears. There was a cure prescribed but unless I followed through, to what avail the remedy?
With feeble hands, I scrawled my strategy; find the strength for one task per day. It seemed insurmountable. But I'd been wrong, I was not alone. Calls to a friend empowered me as she talked me through my chores.
Depression awaited me when I awoke; the war was on. Somehow I drew myself out from beneath the covers, and fulfilled unachievable demands. Success collapsed me back into bed; tomorrow would come soon enough with battles of it's own. But as energy was spent, there was a metamorphosis taking place, subtle in its transformation. Marked with the powers of a chameleon, my inner self slowly took on the guise of energy. I inhaled life with every breath expended toward tasks.
My mind knew what was true, but the struggle lingered. No doubt, to sur-vive would require an initial investment for later gain. My coffers were empty but for one lone coin. How could I give? I would cling to the list; do one thing, one day at a time. It was to be my widow's mite.
When negative feelings slithered into my life, I had embraced them. Doing so relieved immediate pressure but, at the reprisal, only served to prolong and compound it. Procrastination increased my depression by reason of piling on anxiety over unaccomplished tasks and missed deadlines. I've heard it said, "you cannot conquer what you will not confront" (Paula White-Cain). If I wanted control of my life back, it was time to stop hiding; playing the victim. The painful truth is, I procrastinate. The power lies only within myself to overcome it.
Until next time, remember you matter, you have something to contribute, and I hope you'll share it.
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