dumps #12
I have a bruise on my left ribcage that is currently shaped like the continent of Australia, and I’m pretty sure it’s the physical manifestation of my own poor life choices.
Last week, in the middle of a perfectly fine Tuesday where I should have been drafting a contract or, you know, practicing my scales, I decided out of absolutely nowhere that I needed to learn how to fight.
I walked into a Jiu Jitsu gym.
I was immediately met by a man named Adolfo. Adolfo is lovely, I’m sure, but Adolfo also spent forty-five minutes folding me like a piece of origami. At one point, he was literally sitting on my ribs, and as I was gasping for air, staring at the fluorescent lights, I had a very clear, very calm thought: “Dani, why are you here?”
The answer, of course, is that I am obsessed with being productive, yet I am also a world-class legend at sabotaging that productivity with the most chaotic side quests imaginable.
The Productivity High (And the Complain-fest)
I’m the person who does everything. I’m singing, I’m working two jobs, I’m traveling, I’m posting stories of me looking aesthetic while drinking caffeine at 11:00 PM. It feels good. I love the rush of a packed calendar. It makes me feel like I’m winning at the game of Being a Person.
But if you talk to me for more than five minutes, all I do is complain about how tired I am. It’s like a ritual. I fill my plate until the food is falling off the edges, and then I look at the plate and go, "Who did this to me? Why is there so much food? I’m so overwhelmed!"
I look at myself and think: “Oh, this is a classic case of Self-Handicapping.” Think about it. If I do everything. Law, music, psych, and now getting folded by Adolfo, and I fail at one of them, I have a built-in excuse. "Oh, I didn't get that legal brief perfect because I was busy being crushed in a basement." It’s a way to protect our egos. We stay so busy that we never have to face the terrifying possibility of giving 100% to just one thing and still not being good enough.
We’d rather be "exhausted legends" than "focused failures."
Procrastination as an Art Form
But then comes the flip side. The legend-tier procrastination.
I will spend three hours watching "Cat Videos That Sound Like They’re Saying Human Words" or "Primitive Building in the Wild" when I have a literal mountain of work. And I don’t just watch them. I invest in them. I will argue in the comments about whether that cat actually said "I love you" or if it was just a sneeze.
Why do we do this? Why is it that the more we have to do, the more appealing it is to learn the entire history of the Tudor dynasty on Wikipedia?
It’s Emotional Regulation. We aren't avoiding the work; we’re avoiding the feeling the work gives us. The legal brief feels like "Judgment." The song feels like "Vulnerability." But the cat saying "Hello"? That feels like pure, uncomplicated joy.
We are a generation of people who want to change the world, but we’re also a generation that gets paralyzed by the sheer volume of our own potential. So we sit. And we scroll. And we watch a guy build a mud hut in the woods until our phone hits 1% battery and we’re forced to rejoin reality.
The Unsettling Truth
Here’s the part that keeps me up at night (besides the ribs)
I think we’re addicted to the idea of being productive because it keeps us from having to be alone with ourselves.
If I’m not working, I’m procrastinating. If I’m not procrastinating, I’m working. Both are ways to fill the silence.
If I sat still..Truly still, without a phone, without a song to write, and without Adolfo sitting on my chest, I might have to ask myself if I’m actually happy, or if I’m just really good at staying distracted.
We treat our lives like a performance. We want to be the "Singer-Lawyer-Psychologist" because it’s a great title. It sounds impressive at parties. But titles don't keep you warm at night.
We’re obsessed with productivity because we’ve been told that "Doing" is the same thing as "Being." And we procrastinate because, deep down, we know that’s a lie. We know that no matter how much we "do," we’re still just these fragile, confused animals trying to make sense of a world that doesn't have a manual.
FFAAAAHH!!
Anyway, I’m currently back at my desk. I have a bruise, a half-finished song, a legal case about someone’s fence, and a very strong urge to watch a documentary about deep-sea squids.
I’m going to complain about my schedule for the next four hours, then I’m going to go to another Jiu Jitsu session because apparently, I haven't learned my lesson, and then I’ll probably write a song about it.
We are walking contradictions. We want to be efficient machines, but we’re actually just chaotic souls in meat suits who sometimes need to be folded by a guy named Adolfo to remember we’re alive.
It’s hilarious, really. We’re so busy trying to "make it" that we forget we’re already here.
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