Avoidance has become my modus operandi.
Even right now, I'm avoiding something I'm supposed to be doing, something important, something I elected to do, voluntarily.
And it disgusts me. It's like fighting an addiction or sticking to a diet. These are serious, deeply-rooted behavioral issues. I've learned a pattern of behavior that, if not very destructive, at least adds up to my being a total waste of living tissue and diminishing human resources.
When I'm embarrassed by my lack of performance, I avoid people. I don't leave the house for days or don't go anywhere overly public during regular hours. When I'm lazy, I avoid work. When I'm sad, I avoid the pain with silly games, Space Cadet pinball, online Scrabble, reading, StarTrek episodes.
And I know I'm avoiding things, so I feel guilty the whole time, so I don't even enjoy my goofing off. It seems empty and shallow.
When I finally get fed up with waiting, I go and put on my shoes.
For some reason, it helps me finally get up and do something. I don't know why. It might be that it just bridges the gap between me and my to-do list. It's a baby step, like setting up the ironing board so making the choice to go iron requires less work.
It might sound feeble, weak, like a crutch. It seems that way to me, like I'm pawing my way up to little more than a lackluster life. I'm scared (and rightfully so) that when I come to the end of this life that I won't be one of those people who thinks back on their life with no regreat because they lived life to the fullest.
So putting on my shoes has become very symbolic for me. I put them on and I know that I'm going to do something, something productive, something that I will feel good for at the end.
So forgive me if I leave them, laces open, in the middle of floor so that they're in my path when I wake up in the morning.