If you're anything like me, you'll recognise this cycle.
After some random encounter — an article you read, a TikTok you saw, or a conversation you've just had — you'll feel inspired to start something new. You spend a whole day dedicating yourself to planning, gathering (and paying for) the resources you need to excel in your latest endeavour.
That is, until reality kicks back in. Perhaps you're too tired to do anything on the evening you'd set aside to work on your project. Or maybe another, more pressing matter has come up that needs your attention.
After a while, you've found it's been too long to get back into it. Maybe you don't remember how to do your scales, or you can't remember what you were going to write on your blog, or you're worried that because you're not as strong as you were a few weeks ago, you've lost all the progress you'd made at the gym.
Whatever the reason, your best made plans fall to the wayside, you return to your usual routine, and your new adventure becomes another addition to your abandoned activity list.
If I'm being honest, that's almost — almost — what this blog became. I write for a living, so when the weekends roll around, the last thing I want to do is write even more.
The thing is, I've never been great at sticking with projects. I used to play piano, until the squiggles on the scores got harder to read and playing well meant making more of an effort to get good. I used to go bouldering, until I couldn't be bothered to walk half an hour to and from the climbing wall. I used to paint, until getting good, new paints turned out to be expensive and a pain in the ass.
At least, that's what I used to think. Then I came across this TEDTalk.
Funnily enough, I came across this while scrolling through YouTube in bed after declaring I didn't have enough time to play piano. It was a bit of a wake up call.
At university, I never had a problem with deadlines. In fact, I was pretty good at managing my time, getting first, second, third and final drafts done long before the deadline. But here's the catch: there was a deadline.
All these arbitrary goals that I'd set myself — being a master pianist, an artist, a boulderer — didn't have a deadline. In my mind, these goals I'd set were actually nothing more than optional hobbies that would fill calendar space.
In hindsight, perhaps I enjoyed telling myself (and other people) that I was doing these things, so it could give off the illusion that I was doing something to better myself. The best bit — there was no expectation for me to actually get good, as there was never a deadline to do so!
However, it wasn't until I'd watched this video that I'd realised all I was doing was procrastinating. Getting good meant putting in the hard work, and that meant getting it wrong for an indefinable amount of time before getting it right.
All the bad drafts I'd written at university would stay as drafts, tucked away in the recesses of my computer, never to see the light of day.
On the other hand, there was no pressure for me to master playing the piano, so I didn't have to go through the frustration of figuring out which key I was supposed to hit when before I could perform a concerto. As an artist, I'd have to paint some terrible pictures before even considering showing someone else my work.
I'd have to go through the trouble of being bad before I could reap the rewards of being good, and without any reason to do so other than "I want to get good someday", it just wasn't something I was willing to do.
So, what did this mean for me? Was I destined to end up like those at the end of the video, emailing some dude on the Internet, telling him that I felt like a failure because I kept backing out of things when they required effort?
Of course not. If it did, I wouldn't be writing about it right now.
Instead, I decided I probably needed a mindset refresh. In the past, the only things I'd stuck with were the things I'd found easy. I'd pick up the basics, put a little effort in to perfect them, and then take it from there.
When things got too difficult — whether it was deciphering the various notes on a score, or having to set aside extra time to get to the climbing wall — I'd decide that enough was enough, and move on to the next endeavour.
Weirdly enough, this mindset change came from a yellow talking dog on a children's cartoon: "Dude, sorta sucking at something is the first step to being sorta good at something."
'Dude, sorta sucking at something is the first step to being sorta good at something.' — Jake the Dog, Adventure Time
It was true. To get good, I first had to be awful. Horrendous. Laughable. But it was this perseverance that would see me go from awful to acceptable to actually not that bad.
Cue my knitting journey. I'd set myself the small goal of being able to knit a scarf using the knit and purl stitch. I was ready for it to suck. And oh boy, suck it did.
Holes in every other row from dropped stitches. Uneven edges that made the scarf look more like a misshapen blanket. A tail-end too small because I lost one of my 9mm knitting needles and had to adapt to using a 5mm needle instead.
But I did it. I figured out how to knit. And just like Penelope unravelling her tapestry every night, I unravelled my scarf, stitch by stitch, with the intention of casting on and off until I got it right.
Am I good now? No. But am I better? Yes. I was able to gift my Dad a scarf at Christmas (one that he actually wears!) and I've now graduated to making blankets.
Ultimately, if I hadn't acknowledged that I was procrastinating, I'd probably have called it quits on knitting, too. However, it was only when I realised that I was avoiding the discomfort that comes with growth that I decided to do something about it.
To minimise the risk of frustration, I'm taking my knitting journey a step at a time. I'm okay with unravelling my work (most of the time) after taking the time to learn a new pattern. I'm okay with taking as long as I need to perfect a new pattern before diving straight in to creating something with it.
Good things not only take time, but they take patience — both with the craft, and with yourself. Procrastination feeds on the fear of imperfection, but with a little patience with yourself, you'll find there's joy in getting things wrong before you get them right.
Each mistake is a move, a blindspot you didn't know you had, an obstacle you'll need to overcome. It's a journey — but it's oh so worth it.
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