I first learnt the definition of the word ‘procrastination’ when I was at college studying Hamlet on my English Literature course.
Hamlet is about many things, but procrastination is one of the big themes in the play.
Hamlet is procrastinating about what to do, whether to avenge his Father’s murder, whether to kill Claudius and take back his thrown.
In the end it is fair to say he doesn’t so much decide what to do, he has his hand forced.
The fact is I have been waiting to have my hand forced. I am in the passenger seat of my own life. I am not taking control. I am placing my decisions in the hands of others. I don’t know what to do next or how to proceed. I want someone to give me the answers. I want someone to tell me what to do.
The problem in my life is my mental health has taken more than just a nose dive, it has fallen cataclysmic-ally into the abyss.
I want someone to tell me how to get better. If someone told me point blank that the way to get better is to tap your head whilst rubbing your tummy/cycle for 20km each day/howl at the moon then you can bet that I would be cycling at night, whilst tapping my head and rubbing my tummy and howling at the moon.
It would be a surreal sight but I would do anything to make me better.
The thing is I am not willing, or I am incapable of, getting into the drivers seat of my own life.
I am so stressed right now that it’s like I can feel my skin moving. Crawling away from me, going to find a new, more capable, body to attach itself to.
But I am not Hamlet. I do not want my hand forced, I do not want to be in the audience of my life. I am not the King of procrastination. I must be brave. I must persevere.
I must survive.