Gold-Medal Procrastinator

I have a major backlog of recent successes to write about—not a bad problem, I suppose. I also have the Olympics to watch, so I’ll humbly accept a gold medal in procrastination until these precious few weeks of obscure sports about which I’m suddenly extremely passionate once every four years are over, at which point I might attempt to make a genuine effort to catch up. In the meantime, this.

The other night over dinner, my husband and I were talking about an appointment I’d had that morning. It was only then that I realized how momentous the day had been: not only did I take the subway by myself for the first time in years, but I brought myself to the dentist, had two major fillings replaced, and got myself home, little fuss, little muss. In other words, I handled a stressful appointment without stressing out about it. (Who am I, even?) The best, most satisfying part is that my doing so was pretty natural. Like, neither my husband nor I thought much about it before, during, or immediately after. Only weeks ago, we’d have carefully considered every detail and debated whether or not I was ready to do it. No longer.

It’s kind of weird, in a very nice way, to be relatively laid-back. My mellower approach to life isn’t solely manifesting in the realm of medical appointments, either. While it’s allowing me to independently take care of practical obligations, it’s conversely allowing me to be OK with achieving little else. And so my list of projects to complete grows, and I care only the tiniest bit.

Much as I joke about being a gold-medal procrastinator—the Simone Biles of not engaging in societally recognized forms of work, if you will—it’s kind of a big deal that I’ve earned this imaginary bling. I’ve been making a conscious decision to prioritize enjoying the summer over forcing myself to do stuff that might make me feel validated as a responsible human adult in the short term but would likely sabotage my ability to continue along this path to long-term health and happiness, and I’m seeing the benefits. In the past, I’d have slipped back into my habitual “work myself into the ground trying to prove that I’m a productive person” routine by now, but I seem to have made a connection that was, I think, the missing link. It’s taking life slowly that allows me to be productive. The simple act of existing is productive. Taking care of myself is productive. Nurturing healthy relationships is productive. Engaging in creative pursuits is productive. Preparing for a very exciting trip on which I’ll depart on Saturday (the suspense!) is productive. Writing long-winded, self-congratulatory blog posts is productive. Spending all day watching the Olympics is productive.

Maybe, then, procrastination is sometimes the most productive thing of all. I’m ready for my medal ceremony now.