I’ve become very proficient at not-doing. I don’t like that I’m good at it, but know very well that I can come up with a seemingly logical explanation to put something off, or simply get out or something altogether, under the guise of being busy. I’ve also discovered that this is a giant cop-out.
Everyone is busy. There isn’t a person in the world who has nothing to do. If someone tells you they did nothing on the weekend, they’re lying; they, by the laws of existing, did something. Though, whether due to embarrassment, privacy, or an insecure or irrational sense or priorities, it is painstakingly easy — and often reassuring — to talk oneself out of something, rather than indulging.
It is this thought process which I’ve recently grown to employ, and one which I need to stop.