Procrastination is the thief of all time

Finding inspiration for these blogs is always an interesting process and one that I cannot rush or predict, no matter how hard I try.  The only thing I am sure of, is that I will have no idea what is going to cause that lightbulb moment.

This time it was after watching ‘Meet Joe Black‘, one of my all time favourite movies.

We bought a new TV for the kitchen.  My idea, thinking it would be easier (and more productive)  to sit at the table with the laptop, as opposed to having a dog sitting on my laptop whilst I’m trying to write. (This is my reality).  I discovered to my delight that ‘Joe’ had joined the Netflix family and I immediately stopped everything to watch it. Several re-runs later (so much for productivity) and I started to think about time and just how little of it there is.

Phoebe is already 8 months old. This should be the only reminder I need.

Sitting up, playing with her toys

Why then, do I keep putting things off?  Why do I choose to do 100 other irrelevant and unimportant things rather than sit down and tackle my one ‘true passion’?  Why, when I feel frustrated, incomplete and totally crazy because I’m not writing, am I not writing?

Just this morning, by 7 am, I have already managed to waste 2 hours of my day – which were supposed to be for editing a draft that I have been playing around with for months. What did I do instead? Social media, emails, cups of tea, just about anything rather than actually getting on with it. It is no surprise that I am still as far away from my goals as I was at the beginning of this year.

I cannot understand my own arrogance to believe that I can put this off – as if tomorrow is certain.

Nothing is certain except death and taxes. (As if I was going to leave that out)



Plain and simple.

Fear of rejection, criticism, ridicule and FAILURE.

It is so much easier to complain about what you want to do, rather than actually putting in the work and producing something of worth.

It is so much easier to hide away than face the truth.

Its so much easier to express frustration at your lack of accomplishments than to devote endless hours, only to fail.

It is so much easier to say that you want to be a writer, than actually becoming a writer.

The Reluctant Grandma was born out of a need to write and understand myself and address my many flaws.  I wanted to become someone that my Grandchildren could be proud of.

Just what the hell am I waiting for?

What is it going to take for me to be brave enough to do it.

When am I going to stop procrastinating and face up to the one question that I am doing so well to avoid?

What if I’m not good enough?  What if I don’t have any talent whatsoever? What if my writing is just total crap?

What if, the life that I am dreaming of never becomes a reality and I have to continue to spend 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, feeling miserable, useless and totally misunderstood?

See how good I am at complaining?  I am also very good at looking back and wallowing in self pity and regret.

I have no idea what it is going to take for me to change my thoughts, habits and enormous self-doubt and tackle this next hurdle.

When I know, you will know.




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