Procrastination and I? We’ve been lifelong frenemies. I hate procrastination, yet somehow, it still manages to trip me up. It’s never caused catastrophic disasters (well, mostly), but it’s piled on mountains of unnecessary stress throughout my life.
Procrastination is a master of disguise. Sometimes it shows up as full-on avoidance until the last possible second—like cramming taxes or packing for a trip at 3 a.m. before an early flight, leaving me exhausted for no good reason. Other times, it sneaks in as scattered focus: I’ll have an important task to finish, but suddenly I’m juggling 20 browser tabs—half work, half random research or shopping. WTF, brain?
Discovering Executive Dysfunction
My husband has watched me struggle with this for years and never quite understood why I was like this, as if it were intentional. After 20 years of marriage, it finally came up during a packing debate. He’d packed for his trip days in advance, and I admired that. He said he just didn’t want to leave it to the last minute. I told him I didn’t either, but it was complicated by something called executive dysfunction—a term he’d never heard before, and one I only recently learned about myself.
ADHD, Neurodivergence, and Me: Making Sense of the Chaos
Learning about executive dysfunction opened the door to understanding ADHD and neurodivergence. Suddenly, so much of my behavior made sense. I’ve never been diagnosed (because, of course, I wanted to tough it out on my own), and it wasn’t something my parents ever considered growing up. So, I’ve spent four decades muddling through anxiety, procrastination, and last-minute crunches. No meds for me (though I encourage anyone struggling to seek professional help). For now, I’m self-diagnosed and embracing that.
Midlife Reckoning: Who Do I Want to Be Now?
Now, in my mid-forties and nearing empty nest territory, my patience for procrastination is running thin. My nervous system can’t handle the pressure anymore, and my mental health needs some serious TLC. The self-sabotage and relentless inner critic have taken their toll. With more time to reflect on me instead of everyone else, I’m asking: Who do I want to be in this next phase of life?
Between raising two kids (three if you count my husband) and navigating neurodivergence, self-care and personal goals have always been afterthoughts.
My Goals for The Nearing Empty Nest Chapter: A Healthier and Happier Life
- Reach and maintain a comfortable, healthy weight
- Tame my alcohol intake so it doesn’t sabotage progress
- Embrace hobbies: get better at golf, learn guitar, read more
- Build a community of friends (which has definitely suffered since kids and work took over)
- Take care of my home in a way that feels manageable and timely
Each of these contributes to a calmer mind and less guilt—a goal worth chasing.
How Procrastination and Executive Dysfunction Have Held Me Back
Wanting change is one thing. Making it happen? That’s a whole different beast.
I’ve chased these goals before, sometimes succeeding, but inevitably, self-sabotage crashes the party. The inner critic screams, “You’re a failure. You can’t do this.” And suddenly, I’m stuck in a loop of drinking, procrastinating, and watching time slip away—days, months, years—while I’m my own worst roadblock.
It feels like tying cinder blocks to my ankles and jumping off a bridge, gasping for air, cursing myself for the weight I’ve chosen to carry. I’m tired of it. I can’t take it anymore.
Even when my head is clear, doing what I want feels impossible. Overwhelm hits hard. I want to do it all, perfectly, all at once. The result? Doing nothing.
There has to be a better way.
Perfectionism Fails Us: Time to Break Free from the All-or-Nothing Mindset
Reflecting on past wins, like losing 50-60 pounds after each child with Weight Watchers, I realize the problem isn’t knowledge—it’s mindset.
Maintaining a healthy weight is a mental game. Food isn’t just fuel; it’s comfort, dopamine, a quick fix for feeling better. I’ve often turned to food and alcohol to soothe my mood, a pattern that’s hard to break.
Diets and programs sell themselves as lifestyle changes, but they’re really “on” or “off” switches. On means success, off means failure. One slip—a piece of cake, a few drinks—and the spiral begins. The perfectionist in me can’t just jump back in; it’s willpower or nothing. And when willpower fades, old habits reclaim the throne.
I’ve seen this pattern in other areas, like keeping my house tidy. I make lists, schedules, get a room in order, then months later, I’m tripping over laundry piles so big they’d take seven loads to conquer. Only urgent needs—packing for a trip or running out of underwear—force me to act.
My neurodivergent, perfectionist brain hasn’t learned to live in the gray. It doesn’t know how to savor “good enough” or manage Plan Bs when life happens. This is the new identity I want: kinder, gentler, able to accept detours without crashing. Someone with an inner GPS that reroutes around the detours instead of restarting back at the beginning.
That’s the journey I want to share—how to make lasting change, quiet the inner critic, squash guilt, and flourish no matter what.
Can Small, Intentional Actions, Kaizen Inspired? Change My Life?
After countless wipeouts trying to overhaul my life all at once, I found a new approach: Kaizen—small, consistent improvements.
Kaizen is the opposite of all-or-nothing. Instead of overhauling your whole life or being “on a program,” it’s about little shifts each day: tidying one drawer, choosing one nourishing meal, having one less drink, standing up once an hour while working.
It’s a mindset that embraces the gray, the “sometimes,” and still honors progress. For perfectionists and neurodivergent folks like me, it’s a gentler path. It reframes progress as steady, not dramatic. It’s about trusting that small actions add up, inch by inch, or centimeter by centimeter for my metric homies.
Let’s Stop Procrastinating Make Micro-Moments Matter
This is still theoretical for me, but seeing research on micro-moments gives me hope. Can bite-sized changes really transform someone like me, who’s struggled for so long?
I want to encourage a kinder, gentler version of myself—one who doesn’t punish herself for imperfection or resist doing what she wants. I want my actions to reflect the person I am becoming, not some impossible ideal or someone else’s program.
Change isn’t a straight line. Progress is about action, not perfection.
If you’re feeling stuck, overwhelmed, or craving change, I invite you to join me on this little experiment. Let’s see if bite-sized shifts can transform the self-defeating habits of a self-diagnosed neurodivergent with ADHD tendencies.
Who knows where this adventure will lead? But hey, it’s all about the journey, right?