Procrastinating 101: Too "Busy" to be on Time?

Yeah.  I see the irony.  Here I am trying to share what I'm learning from Diana DeLonzor's Never Be Late Again:  7 Cures for the Punctually Challenged--and I'm two weeks late with this post!  

In my defense, I was only up to the first of seven "cures" before I fell behind.  And there's been some unusual stuff hitting the fan in my life of late.  (No pun intended.)  I am going to make every effort to remain on track from here on.  

Today in Procrastinating 101, we are, appropriately enough, looking at "Cure Two:  Beat the Busy Syndrome."  We begin with the ritual set of questions, intended to ascertain whether we are "Producers."  DeLonzor instructs us to answer these probes:

• Do I feel the need to squeeze as much activity as I can into each day?
• Do I view unproductive time as time "wasted"?
• Am I pleased when the day goes by quickly?
• Do I often underestimate everyday tasks, such as getting dressed in the morning or driving to work, even though I've performed those routines many times before?

Two or more "yes" responses qualify us for the title.  (My own magic number is somewhere between two and four, depending on how scrupulously honest I am.  Which puts me in there with Zero Mostel, or Nathan Lane, depending on the era.)

At the core of what DeLonzor calls "The Busy Syndrome" are a couple of key characteristics.  One is the fixation on productivity and accomplishment so common in our culture.  Many of us seem caught up in the attempt to prove our worth, to ourselves and others, by whirling through our days, complaining about how much we have to do while continuing to grow our schedules and commitments.  Add to this the magical thinking about time which comprises the second trait typical of "Producers," and you get the sort of habitual lateness scenarios DeLonzor relates, and I blush to read.  

DeLonzor's "magical thinking" about time refers to the tendency to underestimate the amount of time necessary to complete a task, which results in trying to cram several too many activities into a short period of time.  Related to this difficulty is a general reluctance to arrive anywhere early, which might necessitate waiting.  Thus, we "busy" people find ourselves pushing the envelope on a regular basis, and constantly coming up short.  And late.

Why do we have so much trouble being realistic about time?  DeLonzor suggests that right-brain dominance may account for some of the problem, since the left brain is responsible for organizational skills and accurate time assessment.  She shares, as well, Dr. Neil Fiore's notion of a Peter Pan Syndrome, in which an individual raised by indulgent parents fails to outgrow an "all things possible" attitude.  Such people "have a tendency to see the world and their surroundings as they would like them to be, rather than the way they really are."  (I know someone like this, but I wouldn't say that it applies to me.)

Following a seemingly obligatory cultural criticism section, in which we are invited to step back from the competitive, achievement-focused values and behavior that surround us, DeLonzor points to a way out.  She advises the reader to:

• Change your attitude about squeezing so much into each day.
• Stop thinking of "waiting time" as "wasted time."
• Overcome "magical thinking."

For each of these goals, she outlines a number of exercises designed to promote its realization.  Two that I found especially appealing were:

1. the suggestion of replacing "If I hurry, I can. . ." with one of the following mantras:

• "Am I being realistic or optimistic?"
• "Am I doing too much?"
• "Is this something that I need to do, or something I merely want to do?"

and

    2.  the idea of listing everyday tasks; estimating how long they take to accomplish; and then actually measuring how long they take.

I suspect that these two activities would address the habitual, and according to my children "obsessive" task-involvement which I engage in to the detriment of arriving on time anywhere; and my unrealistic assessments of what I can get done in a given amount of time.  (I persist in thinking, for example, that I can shower and dress in ten minutes, despite my daily failure to do so.)

And now, if the reader will excuse me, I have to do three more loads of laundry, finish the dishes, call my sister, work on projects for two clients, and spend some quality time with my husband before turning in early. . .

Done for the Last Two Weeks: Having Hit the Wall

One of the blessings of this blog has been the (admittedly not vast) "public" accountability for the way I run my life, which is built into these weekly done lists.

And one of the curses of this blog has been the (thankfully not vast) "public" accountability for the way I stumble while running my life.

This post's title blares last week's missing update. The story behind the story is some serious back pedaling.  The major dose of "good mother" behavior which dominated the last several weeks seems to have resulted in a tantrum-like reaction, in which I found myself unable/unwilling to do anything that a) was optional, and b) required any sort of initiative on my part.

I've decided to think of it as a self-correction.  This designation seems like the shortest path back to what I think of as "my work."  And that includes, but is not limited to, this blog.

Done for the Last Two Weeks:  Oct. 24-Nov. 6, 2011

1. Ran three times, swam once
2. Picked up new wetsuit
3. Attended last Run Better class with Trifaster's Lauren Jensen
4. Read The Farming of Bones, by Edwidge Danticat; Mothers and Other Liars, by Amy Bourret
5. Continued to work my two part-time jobs
6. Published 1 blog post
7. Continued significant work on current clients' projects
8. Continued to give nearly full-time support to my daughter and her family as they coped with early arrival of their baby, and my daughter's continuing health problems
9. Helped my son complete loan papers for school
10. Went out for three happy hours with my husband
11. Watched second and third episodes of Boss with my husband
12. Did laundry
13. Watched the first two entire seasons of The Good Wife, in an act of utter escapism
14. Continued reading Elizabeth George's A Traitor to Memory aloud with my husband
15. Straightened out nagging bill issues
16. Attended a special meeting on organization's proposed by-laws amendments
17. Vacuumed several dogs worth of hair off our living room carpet--AGAIN
18. Took my grandson to his swimming lesson
19. Straightened, vacuumed, and dusted our bedroom
20. Reset several clocks and watches back to Standard Time

In between sessions of self-indulgence, I continued to spend significant--though decreasing--amounts of time during the last two weeks helping my daughter and her family deal with the demands and difficulties of her medically complicated postpartum period and the needs of her preemie infant in a Level III NICU miles away. 

And this was still my most important accomplishment.  My daughter is beginning to recover, and my new granddaughter is doing well.  The baby has not yet decided to move beyond passive nourishment, however, which keeps her from coming home for the time being.  And so for now, and for the foreseeable future, Nana-ing remains Job 1.

As part of coping with the stresses of this interval,  my focus goal, from two weeks ago, was to "resume meditating.  Period."   And to show for this?  Another epic fail.  Although I know that meditating is an important element of self-care for me, and a major contributor to the effort to depression-proof my life, I managed to avoid the cushion altogether for the last two weeks.  Part of the tantrum, it would seem.

For the coming week, I am setting a more flexible focus goal, to accommodate the continuing unpredictability of my schedule and my current incorrigible nature.  I am committing myself to practice positive, non self-indulgent self-care, in whatever form I can.  I'll know it when I see it.

Done for the Week: Another of Life's Little Detours

I'm still up to my neck in four-year-olds this week.  That is to say, I've been spending the better part of my waking hours with one very talkative, very energetic, and very dear little boy, and trying at the same time to be as much help as possible to his mother--my daughter.  Her new baby turns two weeks old tomorrow, although by rights she shouldn't really be born for another seven weeks. 

My brilliant advice to my daughter, which I'm trying to remember to follow myself, is to take this challenging period one day at a time.  It seems that's the best I can come up with.  Really.  In the meantime, here's what I got done, somehow, last week:

Done for the Week:  Oct. 17-Oct. 23, 2011

1. Continued 5K training with my youngest son, in preparation for his first race--Finished Week 8 of 9 Week Couch-Potato-to-5K program
2. Took my son shopping for new running shoes, and running gear
3. Cheered my son after he came in 5th in his age group in the Fall Classic 5K, and 24th overall! 
4. Won my age group , beating last year's time by 3+ minutes
5. Ran three times (including race), swam once
6. Read Where the God of Love Hangs Out, by Amy Bloom, Once Upon a Time There Was You, by Elizabeth Berg, and Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk:  A Modest Bestiary, by David Sedaris
7. Continued to work my two part-time jobs 
8. Published 2 blog posts
9. Continued significant work on current clients' projects
10. Continued to give nearly full-time support to my daughter and her family as they coped with early arrival of their baby, and my daughter's continuing health problems
11. Helped my son purchase required laptop for school
12. Celebrated my son's first day in technical college automotive program
13. Went out for happy hour with my husband
14. Saw The Ides of March with my husband 
15. Watched first episode of Boss with my husband
16. Did laundry
17. Continued reading Elizabeth George's A Traitor to Memory aloud with my husband
18. Paid our household bills
19. Vacuumed several dogs worth of hair off our living room carpet
20. Entertained my out-of-town stepdaughter and her two sons, and arranged a family tennis outing
21. Took my grandson to his swimming lesson

Once again, the "most important thing" I accomplished last week was continuing to help my daughter and her family deal with the demands and difficulties of her medically complicated postpartum period and the needs of her preemie infant in a Level III NICU miles away.  We continue to refine the schedule and strategies for dealing with this temporary situation, and to marvel at the resilience of this tiny being as she matures and sheds one tube after another on her way to coming home in a couple of weeks.

I am working hard, but not minding the commitment or its requirements.  For whatever reason--probably the rewards of having had my own surprise children, and the lessons of relinquishing control when it was denied me--it is easy for me to take the long view.  This time will be here and gone before we know it, along with its special opportunities.  I am grateful to have the freedom and flexibility to be able to support my daughter in this way.

Last week's focus goal, in the midst of this adventure, was to "fit in three runs, in preparation for Sunday's race."   I managed to run twice before the race, and to swim once while taking my grandson for his swimming lesson.  Not ideal preparation for our race, given that I had only trained once the previous week, but the best I could do.  And good training in acceptance.

Next week's focus goal is to resume meditating.  Period.

Procrastinating 101: And Now for the Cure. . .

Er, first of the cures, actually.

This week, Procrastinating 101 continues our study of Never Be Late Again:  7 Cures for the Punctually Challenged, by Diana DeLonzor, progressing to "CURE ONE:  Who, Me?  Face the Facts."  Here, those of us who attempt to rationalize away our chronic lateness confront the truth.  For our own good, of course.

At the outset, DeLonzor presents the reader with one of those "You might be a . . ." lists.  In this case, we stand to be assessed as, not a redneck, or a Monty Python fan, or, God forbid, a procrastinator, but, in DeLonzor's schema of the seven types of lateniks, a Rationalizer.  Here's the list, short and not-so-sweet.  If:

• You are frequently late for work, appointments, or social engagements, yet feel lateness isn't a problem;
• You believe people are too uptight about punctuality;
• You often attribute your lateness to circumstances beyond your control;
• You make up excuses when you're late;

You might be a Rationalizer.  If, indeed, you, like me, are at least a bit of a Rationalizer, you may find yourself falling into one (or more!) of these three common traps:

#1--Denying There's a Problem

#2--Blaming Outside Influences

#3--Minimizing the Selfishness of the Act

Luckily, DeLonzor lights the way out of this morass of self-deception, recommending three steps to overcoming rationalization--

• Recognizing the Problem
• Facing the Consequences of Your Lateness, and
• Changing Your Attitude.

She goes on to outline helpful exercises as part of each step.  Two of the overall ten approaches recommend themselves to me as useful places to start.  Both are part of the prescription for "Recognizing the Problem." (Note to publisher/proofreader:  There are four exercises listed under "Changing Your Attitude," but the last is labeled Exercise Five.)


The first directs us to keep what I would call a "lateness diary" for a month, tracking punctuality (if it should occur) and incidents of lateness, and recording the number of minutes by which we miss the appointment hour.  My inner worry-wart raises a concern here about the possibility of being late in recording my transgressions.  But moving right along. . .


The second exercise involves looking for ways in which we have, and could begin to use control over the situations in which we find ourselves being habitually late.  I have decided to focus for now on the almost-daily challenge I face in trying to arrive on time for the one job, in my collection of paid employments, that has set--though frequently changing--hours.  


And now it occurs to me that I am too often jotting the last lines of a blog post when I should be collecting my things and running out the door to get to said job.  Gotta run. . .