What We Tell Ourselves is Who We Are
Putting things off is kind of a hobby with me, but I only recently made a connection in my head between procrastination and agoraphobia. Being very good at hating myself, I've always just accused myself of being lazy, but that's not really the case - or not the whole of it anyway. Very often procrastination is a way of pushing away fear and anxiety.
In the exhaustion and stress of moving and adjusting to my second new home in four months, I have noticed a creeping tendency again to resist going out. This seems particularly, for some reason, to impact me about going to the post office. In my last home, the post office was attached to the house in which I was living. Very convenient. Here it is almost as close yet it seems very far away. I just have to walk across my back yard and down a little hill and I'm right there. I can see the roof of the building from my door. It's my worst nightmare, in a way. It's too close to drive to, yet for some reason the walk is frightening to me. This is pretty pathetic. It's the hill that throws me, I think, because anything that starts to make me feel short of breath carries the body memories of a panic attack. Not to mention that being short of breath carries an intense level of shame for me. "You are ugly and out of shape," the Demonalians chant. "People can see that you are strange and pathetic." So each day, I put off going to check my mail. I start early in the day by deciding to go out "in a little while." And then there is always some reason why I should maybe wait just a little longer and then - oops! - too late, the post office is closed for the day. Next day is the same and each day that I don't go it gets both easier to forget and more shameful to have procrastinated for yet another day. Clearly there is work to be done here, dragons to slay and all that. Motivation. Goals to set.
Originally I was going to go have coffee at a sweet little restaurant on Main Street each day - just to get myself outside with somewhere that felt safe to go to. Alas, they are only open 3 days a week, so I need to find an alternative motivator. One that involves walking, not driving. Driving doesn't really count in terms of where my biggest demons live. Walking around is still what scares me.
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