It’s weird these days. Sometimes I feel like a stranger to myself. In a few hours, I’m going to do something I promised I’d do. Do I feel like doing it? No, not at all.
I’ve had a long day in the middle of a weird week. I’d rather just take the night off and relax.
But I promised I’d do it. And it can’t be rescheduled. There would be lots of negative consequences anyway if I did so.
It’s now or never, baby. And nobody likes the look of this never. I’d like to avoid it if at all possible.
So I’m doing the thing. Yes, even though I don’t feel like it. I’ll get it done. It’ll be fine. And then I’ll rest afterwards. Maybe find some way to treat myself after it’s done. Reward the good behavior when it’s hard. (A way of helping it to be more likely to happen again, when practiced here and there and not done every single time.)
Still, I can’t believe I’m doing this. There’s a time that I definitely wouldn’t have. When I would have flaked instead, potentially without even giving notice to the other people counting on me.
Once upon a time, going in and doing what I promised even when I didn’t feel like it wouldn’t just be out of character for me — it’d basically be impossible. I had little to no ability to just force myself to do things. It seemed so easy for other people to do but not me.
No, there was something unpredictable and treacherous inside of me that wouldn’t listen to what was best. What I promised. What would be the most responsible course of action.
A few decades later, I’m a changed woman. I’m that person that other people call organized. Dependable.
And responsible. Wow.
It’s wild to me because I still feel like the same old mess. I don’t feel like those titles belong to me to be honest. Not really. But I guess responsibility can look like doing what you promised, even when you don’t feel like it.