Asking for a Friend

Is it judgy to judge someone who is judgy?

Asking for a friend.

(It’s me. I’m the friend.)

A few years ago, while working at a residential rehab, I accompanied a client to the emergency room. After the initial flurry of nurses, questions, and paperwork, there wasn’t much left to do except wait.

So we talked.

We talked about recovery, stigma, and how exhausting it can be when people see “addict” before they see “person.”

Maybe that’s one reason I’ve always had a soft spot for people who feel pushed to the edges.

Working in rehab confirmed something I’d suspected all along: people can make heartbreaking choices and still be worthy of understanding and love.

We talked about people who judged those struggling with addiction.

Then we talked about other kinds of judgmental people.

But not us.

Somewhere in the middle of that conversation, a thought quietly crossed my mind.

Am I being judgmental?

Sadly…

Yes.

Over the years, I realized something that changed the way I see people.

So often, judgment isn’t rooted in hatred.

It’s rooted in fear.

I’ve come to believe that people often fear what they don’t understand. Sometimes they’re protecting deeply held beliefs. Sometimes they’re protecting themselves. And sometimes they’ve simply never had the opportunity to know someone whose story is different from their own.

Seeing that people were often scared—not just unkind—didn’t make their judgment okay.

But it did make them easier to understand.

Does understanding why people judge make it okay?

Not really.

But it does remind me that “people” includes me.

I still catch myself making assumptions.

I still have moments when I see a label before I see a person.

Maybe that’s why grace matters so much.

We all need someone willing to look past the label long enough to see the human being underneath.

Including the person in the mirror.

If this post encouraged you, made you smile, or reminded you that you’re not alone, would you share it with someone who might need it today? Sometimes hope has a way of finding us through a friend. 💙

Procrastination Stole My Brain… So Here We Are

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.

Many naps later

****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.