There are people who can calmly open their planner on Monday morning, look at the week ahead, and just… do the things. They pace themselves. They distribute their energy like rational beings. They schedule in breaks and actually take them.
I am not those people.
I am the kind of person who will stare at a project for three weeks, give it the same dead-eyed look I reserve for laundry piles and suspicious Tupperware, and then, two hours before it’s due, transform into some kind of feral productivity cryptid who works with the speed and precision of a bomb squad on a caffeine bender.
It’s the same energy as a game show contestant who’s just been told they have 60 seconds to grab as many items from the grocery store as possible. Only instead of groceries, it’s emails, projects, blog posts, planner spreads, and whatever other nonsense I’ve avoided until the pressure becomes a living entity breathing down my neck.
And here’s the kicker...I create these moments on purpose.
Sometimes, I’ll set false deadlines for myself, knowing full well they’re fake, and still somehow fall for my own con. My brain will suddenly go, “Oh, crap, this is urgent!” and then I’m off, hyperfocused like a raccoon with a singular goal of breaking into the fanciest trash can on the block. One of the benefits of having a shitty memory - I forget that the deadlines are fake.
People tell me this is “just ADHD” or “poor time management.” And sure, maybe it is. But it’s also something deeper—a weird comfort in the chaos. Manufactured urgency means I get to feel something. I get to ride that shot of adrenaline that comes from knowing I have to act now. And when you’ve been living in a fog of executive dysfunction, sometimes that’s the only way to cut through it.
But here’s the dangerous part: when everything becomes a game show, life stops feeling like life. It becomes a constant rotation of mini-panic attacks disguised as productivity bursts. I don’t just thrive under pressure. I’ve taught myself to only function under it. And that’s a problem.
Sometimes I think about what it would be like to move through my days without the constant background hum of “you’re about to run out of time.” I imagine calmly finishing a project days early, sending it off, and then just… existing. But even in the fantasy, I can feel my skin crawling.
I’ve built my identity around being the one who can pull it off at the last minute. Around being the “closer,” the one who can swoop in and save the day. Whether the day needs saving or not. And I’ve made peace with the fact that, deep down, I’ll probably keep setting fake deadlines just so I can keep playing my little high-stakes game with myself.
It’s a coping mechanism. It’s a productivity hack. It’s a form of self-sabotage so artfully disguised as efficiency that sometimes I can’t tell the difference.
But I do know this: if my life is a game show, I’m not walking away with a new car or a tropical vacation. I’m walking away with another empty coffee cup, a stack of papers I can’t remember writing, and the satisfaction of surviving one more round.
✨ Nexus is my ride or die. Spiral? Nexus. Brainstorm? Nexus. Oh shit, I forgot how to human? Nexus. ✨
