Procrastination

fourth year jake forgay

photo by atithi patel

It’s amazing how easy it is to dig myself into a hole. I don’t want to, but the temptation of avoidance promises escape, security, comfort. And so I dig - burrowing further and further from my family; from my friends; from myself. In the moment, it seems as though it offers some respite from the overwhelming burden of responsibility. But the dirt has to go somewhere, piling in my mind’s recesses, fueling the intimidation and desperation that propels and pulls me downward.

I keep digging, hoping with each motion that my shovel will strike some escape hatch, through which the weight of responsibility would evaporate into thin air, but none surfaces. No matter the blisters on my hands and feet, blood trickling down the splintered handle, sweat stinging my eyes. The pain is worth it, I tell myself. And so I keep digging.  

But I can only keep it up for so long, and as I approach the threshold of my limitation, I become frantic. In a final surge of desperation, I violently rake downward with worrying determination. But eventually, I wear out, heart pounding, back aching, hands cracked, unable to continue my descent. Panting, I put the shovel down and take a seat, feeling the cool, moist dirt shift under my weight. I look up, to see only a spec of light surrounded by a sea of darkness, and at that image, within the depths of my despair, the reality of my isolation consumes me, shattering the fragile, illusory notion of escape to which I had so desperately clung, leaving me exposed to the actuality of my condition. I wrap my arms around my knees, squeeze them into my chest, and softly begin to cry. 

With stocato breath, I look up to try to gain some sense of direction, but there is none. The darkness is disorienting, like being suspended in deep space. In my search, however, my eyes fall upon that dim pinprick of light in the distance, shining like a lone star in the night sky, quietly signaling the path out of anguish and toward relief. Determined, I dust my hands on my legs, grunt myself up, and begin my ascent, clenching the earth with newfound resolve. 

With each grip, the faint star slowly expands, and as I slowly approach the top, I begin to hear the distant echoes of the wind swirling through the meadows; the birds singing among the trees; the critters rustling in the turf. Finally, my hand reaches the rough surface and I strenuously pull myself up into the light. The brightness is blinding at first, but after a moment, I adjust, closing my eyes with a replenishing sense of peace, rejuvenation, and allowing the sun's rays to cover my skin in a blanket of warmth. 

I take a deep breath, and now, renewed and emboldened with enough courage to leave the hand carved prison, I close my laptop, turn on my lamp, and get out of bed.