The Princess Productivity Paradox

Just because she's always in another castle doesn't mean you should show up empty-handed.

What would you say to your past self if you traveled back in time? There is only one correct answer: do not engage.

Ayo Edebiri’s wisdom

The laws of time however are not the issue here. Until they are. As someone with a woefully feeble grasp on time management, I do not manage time in the same way that time manages me. Time is an unrelenting current sweeping me towards our universal inevitability that so far remains shrouded by murky errands, life events, and spontaneous preoccupations along the way. If I could see the shelf dropoff perhaps I’d be properly motivated, but it’s probably better that I don’t. End of metaphor.

I devote a lot of thought energy to my suspicions that something is deficient with my brain and how it cannot. But this is the same brain that wrote a book (several times if you count all the edits), made a perfume, and also… I don’t know, did some other stuff this year. And yet, because we live in the productivity freakshow that we live in, I am unable to derive any more satisfaction from the completion of a project before the anxiety of no longer having a project to work on sets in. And though I may be so committed to pleasure and leisure, I see the doings of others and naively say to myself, I could do that but I don’t wanna.

It’s not other people’s success I’m envious of so much as it is their (perceived, performed) ambition and drive to achieve it. The things! I could do! With ambition! I am not a lazy person, but in the absence of my motivation, so went The Point™ with it. What was so clear to me before, re: things I want to achieve in my life, I find beyond daunting now. But that might not be a brain problem.

The princess paradox: of always being in another castle

The last therapist I had kept insisting I was very likely depressed, and I was like, No I’m not, my life is awesome, I have so much going for me. But that isn’t how depression works, and probably not how therapy works either. I think depression is perhaps not a specific enough term for the mind-melting ennui that oozes my faculties to a halt. Satisfaction always pulls an Irish exit at the afterparty of accomplishments. The princess always is in another castle!

Present-me, or me in the present, is not adept at handling all that. And it’s entirely likely that there just isn’t anything to be done. How should I know? (It’s present-me’s first day on the job every day, after all.) My entire life has been stumbling towards a vague carrot of probably make a life for myself or something like that. Believe it or not, this is not very motivating material.

But thinking about future-me, the one waiting for present-me to do something already is the only thing that gets my asse going.

This form of mental time travel is the only thing as of late that has motivated me to at least be a put-together enough person so that even though I’m not achieving my goals or whatever serves as a badge of existence, I’m at least not digging myself deeper. I’m keeping the engine running for the time when my faculties are well-oiled, less goopy, more alert, and fired up. I am making sure I have snacks in the house. I am making sure the sheets are kept fresh, there are ample clean socks and underwear in the drawers. I am thinking of all the things future me is going to need to proceed and I serve accordingly. I’m not her, but she is me.

And if there’s anything I know about being me, it’s that I am easily derailed by minor inconveniences, and will take any opportunity to procrastinate the things I allegedly want to do with sideline errand bullshit. Well, not anymore, future-me! You can depend on present-me.

I cannot stress how satisfying it is, the moment when you think, “I want something sweet,” only to remember that past-you made sure to put a Whole Foods tiramisu slice in the fridge for you. Or when past-you did due diligence to go to the Global Entry appointment even though you haaaaate government bureaucracy, so the next time a homeward flight dumps you into JFK, you can breeze through customs. You follow me.

So much of being a person involves doing annoying things that probably aren’t that important or pressing but will pay off at a later date when you realize how you can butterfly effect your way into the life you do envision for yourself.

Some people will call this typical “responsibility.” Some people will say, duh, that’s what being an adult is. Or that’s just what being a person is. Well, guess what.

That is boring. When has being a mature adult motivated anyone?? Lame. Over it. Done with it.

But Looking out for Future-You? Prophetic. Divinely sanctioned. A canon event. A worthy endeavor.

I am the preeminent expert on me, so I have the best predictive knowledge of what (near) future-me will need or want and can prepare accordingly. Future-me is the one I need to be looking out for. Present-me is already a product of past-me’s fumblings. And we’ve been getting by alright, but you live you (allegedly) learn. This method is the only thing that works for me on days when I cannot/don’t wanna/shan’t.

In lieu of discipline or success-minded habits, I use the time travel method for productivity. The best part is you don’t really have to do anything because time is happening no matter what you do. All you do is plant little treats, conveniences, and things you will need for the journey of being a person along the way for future-you.

Is it a bit twee? Maybe. Is it going to be correct every time? Probably not. But is it better than wading in the lukewarm pissy pool of today’s uhhhmmmm meehhhhh ennui? 1000% yes.

Not my princess, not my castle! Until you are! And it is!