Why Not Ourselves?

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I had a thought this week… follow me for a minute.

I was talking with a client about forgiveness. They were working through some pretty deep betrayal, and we were discussing how, if we choose to move forward and forgive, we eventually have to find ways to let go of anger and resentment.

Not all at once. Not perfectly. But over time.

We talked about how it takes practice. Repetition. Even a little bit of that “rewiring your brain” stuff.

And then I kept thinking about it after the session.

Because here’s the question that stuck with me:

Why are we so willing to practice forgiving others…
But so resistant to forgiving ourselves?

We talk about how holding on to resentment in relationships creates distance, tension, and disconnection.

But we don’t always talk about what happens when that resentment is turned inward.

When we hold grudges against ourselves.
When we replay mistakes.
When we refuse to give ourselves grace.
When we “beat ourselves up” and call it accountability.

That creates conflict, too.

Just… inside.

And I don’t think self-forgiveness is all that different from forgiving someone else.

It takes time.
It takes intention.
It takes practice.

It probably feels uncomfortable and unnatural at first.

And maybe—just like with others—we don’t have to jump straight to full forgiveness.

Maybe we start with:
“I don’t have to punish myself forever for this.”

I’m a therapist by profession, so I get to have these kinds of conversations often. And honestly, they don’t just help my clients—they help me. They give me a chance to slow down and really think about how I’m showing up in my own life, too.

This isn’t meant to be a therapy blog or a list of steps to fix anything. It’s just me, sharing what I’m learning and noticing along the way, in real time.

Because if I believe in showing up for myself (which I talk about a lot here), that probably includes learning to let go of my own resentment, too.

Still working on that one.

But I think it’s worth practicing.

And maybe that counts as a win.

My MO is changing

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I almost quit today.

Not in a dramatic, throw-my-hands-up kind of way. Just the quiet, familiar thought:
“Yeah… this is too much. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

My blog subscription thing wasn’t working (or so I thought). Friends were trying to support me, and I couldn’t even get the subscribe button to cooperate. It felt frustrating, a little embarrassing, and very tempting to just… walk away.

Because if I’m being honest, that’s kind of my pattern.

When something feels confusing or I don’t immediately know how to fix it, my brain goes straight to:
“Maybe this just isn’t your thing.”

But today I didn’t quit.

I asked for help. I stayed in it. I kept clicking around, even when I felt completely lost.

And you know what the problem was?

Spam.

The emails were going to spam.

That’s it.

All that frustration, all that self-doubt… and it was a spam folder.

Which feels very on brand for life, honestly.

But the win isn’t that I fixed it.

The win is that I didn’t quit on myself.

I’m starting to realize that confidence isn’t about always knowing what you’re doing. It might actually be about staying when you don’t.

Also… maybe I’m not as bad at things as I’ve decided I am.

Wild thought, I know.

Anyway, if you tried to subscribe and didn’t get an email, check your spam folder. Apparently, that’s where all the important things go 😅

And for me?

I think this counts as a win.

Procrastination Stole My Brain… So Here We Are

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Procrastination Stole My Brain… So Here We Are
Imperfect follow-through still counts

A few years ago, I wrote this:

I have learned that procrastination is a thief.
Let it into your life, and it will rob you of time, energy, peace of mind, and self-confidence.

And today—ironically—I had a whole train of thought building on that idea.

It was good. Insightful. Probably blog-worthy.

And now?

Gone.

Vanished somewhere between “I should write that down” and “I’ll do it in a minute.”

Which, honestly, feels a little fitting.

Because procrastination doesn’t always show up loud and obvious.
Sometimes it just quietly takes things from you.

A little time here.
A little energy there.
A little bit of mental space.

Until suddenly, the thing you meant to do… the thought you wanted to hold onto… the version of yourself that felt capable and on top of things…

is just out of reach.

That’s the part I don’t think we talk about enough.

It’s not just about getting things done or not getting things done.

It’s about what it slowly chips away at over time.

Your peace of mind.
Your confidence.
Your trust in yourself.

And yet…

Here I am.

This isn’t the post I planned earlier.
It’s not as polished or thoughtful as it could have been.

But it exists.

And maybe that matters more.

Because maybe the goal isn’t to never procrastinate.

Maybe the goal is to not let it take everything.

So tonight, this is my small act of taking something back:

I showed up anyway.

Late.
A little scattered.
Definitely not perfect.

But I kept a promise to myself.

And that counts.

So if today got away from you—if your energy dipped, your focus wandered, or your ideas slipped through your fingers—you’re not alone.

Let’s just practice this:

Show up anyway.

Even when it’s messy.
Even when it’s late.
Even when it’s not what you planned.

Because procrastination may be a thief…

…but it doesn’t get to take everything.

Not if we decide it doesn’t.

But first… maybe just a small nap.

Procrastination Math

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When I was in middle school and high school, my mom went to the beauty shop every Saturday. And yes, that’s what it was called back in the day — the beauty shop.

She would be gone for about three hours, and before she left, she would give me a list of chores to accomplish while she was gone.

This is where my advanced mathematical abilities came into play.

I would carefully calculate how long each chore should take. Then I would subtract that number from the three hours she would be gone and determine exactly how long I could wait before starting.

Side note: I have never been good at math.

As you might imagine, this system seldom worked.

I would miscalculate the time (shocking), get distracted, or decide that something else was suddenly very important. Inevitably, the chores would not be finished when she got home.

Looking back, I realize this has been a recurring theme throughout my life.

School work.
Housework.
Work work.

If something can be procrastinated, there is a good chance I have tried.

And yet here I am. It’s Sunday night. 10:00 p.m.

Working on my weekly post.

Apparently, I am still practicing procrastination math.

But I’m also working on something new — a mantra I’m trying to adopt:

I keep promises I make to myself.

This post is short, but it’s here.

Perfect? No.
Acceptable? Pretty much.

Let’s keep working on this journey together, my friends.

Well… after a nap.

Many naps later

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****UPDATE**** I did indeed write this post yesterday. Due to some technical difficulties, I did not get it posted. So, in full transparency, I am a work in progress. With that said, here is yesterday’s post.

A few weeks ago I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t fall back asleep.

You know that strange hour of the night where the house is quiet, the world feels paused, and your brain decides it is the perfect time to revisit every idea you’ve ever had?

Somewhere in that sleepless moment, I started thinking about writing again.

Not writing someday.
Not writing when I had more time.
Not writing when I finally felt organized, inspired, productive, or magically transformed into someone who never procrastinates.

Just writing.

So in that quiet moment of insomnia, I made a small promise to myself:

I would write every Sunday.

Simple enough, right?

Except promises we make to ourselves have a funny way of becoming negotiable.

And this morning, the negotiations began.

It didn’t start dramatically. There was no internal battle music playing. No heroic speech.

Just a quiet suggestion from my very reasonable brain.

“You could move writing to Monday.”

After all, it had been a long week.
Sunday mornings are peaceful.
And technically, Monday is also a perfectly acceptable day to write.

But then another thought appeared, and it was far less polite.

“If you move it today, you’ll move it again next week.”

And the week after that.

Not because I’m lazy.

But because I know myself well enough to recognize how easily promises to myself become flexible when no one else is watching.

That moment didn’t feel like motivation.

It felt like resignation.

Not the kind where you give up.

The kind where you finally stop pretending you don’t know what you’re doing.

Clarity has a strange power like that.

It doesn’t come with fireworks or dramatic music. It just quietly says:

“I see the pattern.”

So I opened my laptop.

And many naps later, here we are.

If you’ve ever struggled with procrastination, you might appreciate a TED Talk that made me laugh out loud the first time I watched it. It’s called “Inside the Mind of a Master Procrastinator” by Tim Urban. He describes the battle between the rational decision-maker and the Instant Gratification Monkey living in our brains.

If you haven’t seen it, it’s worth ten minutes of your life:
https://www.ted.com/talks/tim_urban_inside_the_mind_of_a_master_procrastinator

What I love about his talk is how human it is.

Procrastination isn’t usually about laziness.

It’s about negotiation.

The quiet, constant bargaining we do with ourselves.

Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe later.
Maybe when I feel more ready.

But sometimes a small victory happens in a very quiet moment.

The moment we stop negotiating.

The moment we simply keep the promise.

Not perfectly.

Not enthusiastically.

Just honestly.

And sometimes the victory looks exactly like this:

Opening your laptop on a Sunday morning when you’d honestly rather take a nap.

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I Was Going to Start This Blog Yesterday…

But first, a nap.
Then I had to check my email, scroll Instagram, deep-clean the inside of my toaster (??), and organize a drawer I haven’t opened since 2014. You know, the essentials.

So… here we are. A day, a month, maybe a year later than planned — but hey, I made it. And if you’ve stumbled across this corner of the internet, chances are you’ve done the same: finally started something… after doing literally everything else first or nothing at all.

Welcome to But First, a Nap — my official, unofficial space to talk about procrastination, attention-deficit moments, and the deep, undeniable pain of doing absolutely nothing when everything is due.

What This Blog Is (and Is Not)

This is not a productivity blog.
You won’t find color-coded calendars, 5 AM miracle routines, or bullet journal spreads with intimidating levels of precision.

This is also not a motivational blog (though you might leave feeling a little more motivated anyway).

This is a real-life, humorous, sometimes messy look at what it means to live with ADHD, perfectionism, occasional laziness, and the kind of brain that says, “Let’s do everything!” — and then immediately lies down for a bit.

Why I’m Here

Because I’ve spent a long time feeling like I should be “better” at life — more focused, more disciplined, more able to complete a task without first alphabetizing my Spotify playlists.

And somewhere along the way, I realized:
– I’m not lazy — I’m overwhelmed.
– I’m not broken — I’m wired differently.
– And maybe, just maybe, there’s value in showing up honestly… even when the “showing up” takes three tries and a small to medium meltdown.

This blog is my way of writing through that — with humor, with honesty, and without pretending I have it all figured out.

What You Can Expect

– Real stories about the mess of everyday life
– Confessions from a chronic procrastinator
– Moments of unexpected clarity
– The occasional nap-related metaphor (probably too many)
– Zero judgment

If you’ve ever felt like you’re behind before you even begin, or that your to-do list is slowly forming a mutiny… you’re in the right place.

Let’s figure this out — slowly, imperfectly, one distraction at a time.

But first? You guessed it. A nap.

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