Confessions of a Procrastinator
I didn’t plan to write this at the last minute, but, in a delightful stroke of irony, here we are.
To be fair, I thought about writing it early. I even opened a blank document a few times, stared at the blinking cursor like it was judging me, then decided to reorganize my Google Drive folders instead. Important work, obviously. “Preparation,” I told myself. “Mental warm-up.”
Procrastinators are nothing if not creative.
You see, I’m not your garden-variety time-waster. I’m an overthinking, detail-polishing, research-down-a-rabbit-hole kind of procrastinator. I’ll spend an hour picking the right font for a heading I haven't even written yet. If procrastination were a competitive sport, I’d have medals—delivered late, but still.
The strange thing is, I love what I do. I’m in a master’s program, knee-deep in research, ideas, questions that genuinely excite me. But even when I’m fascinated, I can find a thousand detours before I begin the actual work. I once spent an entire afternoon debating the semantics of my thesis title while avoiding writing the introduction. (Spoiler: the title changed three times later.)
Why do we do this to ourselves? For me and maybe for you too—it’s not about laziness. It’s about fear. Fear that what I write won’t match the vision in my head. That if I start, it might not be good enough. And as long as the project lives in my imagination, untouched and perfect, I don’t have to confront the flaws in execution.
This psychological dance shows up everywhere: the untouched draft, the unread journal article, the unopened email from a supervisor. There’s a weird comfort in delay, it gives us the illusion of control. But here’s the catch: it also robs us of clarity, peace, and time.
I remember a moment vividly from last term. It was 3:12 a.m. I was sitting in a hoodie that hadn’t been washed in two weeks, lit only by my laptop screen, frantically finishing a literature review I could have completed days earlier. My kitchen smelled like burnt coffee, my brain was fried, and I was negotiating with the universe for just a few more hours. Somehow, I pulled it off. I submitted it at 7:58 a.m. and got a decent grade. But I was a shell of a human for the next two days. Was it worth it? Honestly, probably not.
So I’ve started treating procrastination less like a personal failing and more like a pattern to decode. When I catch myself scrolling instead of starting, I pause and ask: What exactly am I avoiding? Most of the time, it’s the discomfort of not being perfect. But perfection is a moving target—and the only way to get there is to start messy.
Now, I use low-stakes tricks to get going: setting a 15-minute timer, making deals with myself like “just write one paragraph,” or pretending the first draft is for my eyes only. And it works, more often than not. I still delay sometimes, but the spiral feels less steep.
The procrastinators aren’t broken. We’re just human—high-functioning, ambitious, slightly overwhelmed humans with vivid imaginations and sometimes too-high standards. The key isn’t to shame ourselves into change but to work with our minds, not against them.
So here’s my confession: I’m a procrastinator. But I’m working on it…Right after this nap.
