The irony is that I’m writing a blog post about productivity from the comfort of my blankets, pillows and loveseat, and when my phone decided to reboot itself, I lost the first version.
OK I get it, Samsung. The first draft sucked.
I really {really} adore productivity. If it were a food, I would eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I would soccer-mom arm it in the face if I had to, and if there was ever a time I had to choose between productivity and myself, I would choose ….
Oh wait. This is the point of the whole thing…
*save draft*
…To tell you that I am addicted to the high of productivity.
I love it so much I’ll write things on my to-do list that I’ve already done so I can cross them off. Look at you. All the things you did today crossed off in orderly fashion. And if it’s a day that I feel wasn’t as productive as it should have been, I’ll put things down like, “brushed the dogs; organized the windowsill in the kitchen (as if that’s a thing); thought about cleaning my car.”
When it’s not a physical list, it’s a mental one. I tick each item off, especially in those semi-hyperventilating moments when I ask myself, “What have you accomplished today?!” and I hurriedly rattle a whole heckuva lot of stuff off and then say to myself (satisfied), “You’ve been productive enough.”
*save draft*
But when is “enough” too much? And when does the productivity high become dehabilitating? Or when does the thrill of checking something off the to-do list override the significance of the things?
And if a version of myself only does one thing all day, but it is THE one thing, is that more or less important than my other self who gets 15 things done but nothing really?
The struggle is real.
Then there’s resting – the most unproductive thing EVER, according to my Self (my Ego, if you will).
“What did you do today?”
“Nothing.”
Heresy!
And the guilt.
What an inefficient use of your time … sleeping. You should really curb that habit.
Cue the diseases, my Body and the enlightened version of myself.
These are the parts of me I can’t ignore.
“Heya! Yeah, it’s me. Your body. Guess what? We’re putting you to bed.”
“Hello, my name is Lyme disease and I extract all traces of energy and render you useless at around 1 p.m. Every day.”
“Resting is productive. Resting is creativity. Resting is imperative for everything in your future, like living. And being nice to people.”
Some folks say, “That must be nice,” when I mention what has become my near-daily afternoon-nap-routine, but truth be told, I don’t have much say in the matter and I don’t always like it.
“But I need to do this one more thing …”
To the people who are thinking, “I wish I could take a nap every day … *bitch* …this cycle will end. It’s just a weird phase we’re going through.
*save draft*
Between my body, my enlightened self, my mentor, my therapist, my mom, my partner, my close friends, I’m ejecting the productivity tape that plays incessantly in my head (if left unfettered), and I’m choosing …
What AM I choosing?
My ego wants to know what a synonym for productivity is.
Resting is productive. Resting is productive. Resting is productive.
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