You know that feeling of dread that creeps up,
Wraps around your chest and immobilizes?
The ever potent bug of procrastination.

It spans all personalities and tasks.
It makes me irritable and brings out the escapist in me.
And so often, once the clothes are folded, dishes put away or book read,
it fades with a sigh of relief....
Til next time.
Which could be a matter of minutes or hours or days or weeks.

Someone, I think it was a parent, asked me if I knew a cure for procrastination.
I had to stop and think.
I am, by artistic nature, a procrastinator, desiring to be as fully present in the moment without care.
And yet I was raised with a good, loyal German work ethic. Not to mention, this crazy awareness of detail that I've been trying to figure out if it should be ignored or exploited.
I said, being on the receiving end of someone else's procrastination.
If it happens to you enough, your view of responsibility changes. So while the dread still creeps, you take care of things instead of hiding because you care for others.

Works great for everything but myself. I'm realizing I really don't care very much for myself. A very practical example, my laundry or cleaning my car. Neither affect other people very much so I ignore them. Don't like to take the energy to address them. But it's really not caring for myself.
Do you know how many times I have this thought when I finally get around to doing something for myself? Every time. Seriously. Working out. Yoga. Reading. Walking. Oh the list goes on and on.
I'm really beginning to wonder when I'll start taking care of myself on a regular basis.
When I'll actually see it as worthwhile to spend the money for a yoga class or to create just for me.
And why do I keep putting it off?
And what does that say about what I think of myself?