Procrastination is expensive

Procrastination is putting off doing something until a future time. Delaying something needlessly. We all have things we don’t like to do. My husband tends to procrastinate when he is treading on unfamiliar ground. Other times it may be something painful we are putting off: a doctor’s visit, eating better, exercise. Then there are the times when we just delay needlessly, for no apparent reason. Maybe it’s a trip, a new purchase or making a phone call.

Time or money may be the root cause of our procrastination. I have mastered putting something off until a future time, and unfortunately this has led to many regrets. Life is fragile and delays can never be redeemed.

A few weeks before my dad died, I had an overwhelming desire to drop everything and go to Disneyland with him. I knew it wasn’t practical, I had no money and he probably couldn’t have gotten the time off work, but the thought lingered. I pushed it out of my mind until some future time. I also wanted to send him a movie that I knew he would enjoy, yet I delayed needlessly. I procrastinated! Those choices can never be redeemed. There is no “do over.”

Every time I talked to my dad he would tell me he was going to come back for a visit. In the spring it would be in the fall and in the fall it would be in the spring. The seasons always changed and we always hoped he would come.

Procrastination was one of his identifying trademarks. We knew he would eventually do it, just slower than most. Sometimes procrastination can save valuable energy. You have had time to make the right decision, which leads to less regrets. At other times, procrastination wastes valuable energy. You have delayed needlessly and have missed a window of opportunity that will never open again. Telling someone how you feel, taking a long-awaited trip, sending that one-of-a-kind gift, making a phone call. In an instant, those things may not be an option, and your delay has cost you a missed chance and given you a life filled with regret. That is the high price of procrastination.

I am really not adopted

Have you ever heard of children who find out they are adopted? It shatters their world. Everything they thought they knew about themselves is not true. They may have a need to find their biological parents and start a lifelong quest for answers.

That is not me! My dream was actually the opposite. I had this childhood fantasy that I was switched at birth, and that someday my real family would figure it out and come and rescue me. They would be wealthy and refined, loving and kind.

When I was a teenager, this dream came very close to reality. Applying for a social security card, I had to fill out a form listing all the information on my birth certificate. So I listed my parents’ names, dates of birth and so on. When I approached the counter, the woman looked it over and said, “I’m sorry, but the names of your parents that we have on record do not match those you listed.”

My heart began to race. Was my dream coming true? I knew it!
“Can you tell me who my real parents are?” I asked.
She replied, “Sorry, that is confidential information.”

Oh, how high my hopes were running. I soon returned with my birth certificate, listing my supposed parents. When she wasn’t looking I snuck my head around to peek at the computer screen. I had to know. Who were these secret parents of mine?

The names on the screen were Herb and Evelyn. What? My grandparents? Of course, they had been mistakenly listed as my real parents. Oh well, you can’t blame a girl for trying.… I left, with my shattered dream.

I will admit that, even as an adult, I still wonder if there was a mix-up at the hospital. But would I really be happy if you told me today that my family was not really my family? Probably not! I would then inherit another family that would have just as many quirks and probably be just as dysfunctional. What if they were worse? I’ll stick with the family I know, and appreciate the fact that I am really not adopted.

Maybe they’re the normal ones

I have spent many days talking to others about my family’s crazy antics, and have enjoyed quite a few laughs at their expense. My dad, who has an amazing sense of humor and is one of the few who did not move to North Carolina, would call on a weekly basis and we would joke about my mom’s side of the family, whom he knew all too well. I think he got a sense of satisfaction from it.

Then, early one morning, I got the worst phone call of my life. My healthy, vibrant dad had suddenly died!

My sister and mom (who had divorced him twenty years earlier) had to fly out to California for his funeral. Now, you may believe that grief brings out the worst in people, and I am sure that is true for some individuals. But soon after arriving, I realized something profound: my dad’s side of the family, which I was rarely around, was just as crazy as my mom’s. That was the first phase of this light-bulb moment. The second phase came when I was talking to an old friend and telling him a story about my grandfather, who was on the top of my most-embarrassing list. My friend jokingly said, “Have you ever thought that maybe you’re the weird one and they’re the normal ones?”

Had I ever thought that? Not in a million years! But I couldn’t shake the comment. Maybe it’s because deep in my core I knew it might be true, but I didn’t dare admit it. What if I was the weird one? I had always felt different from the rest of my family. The puzzle piece that never quite fit, the incorrect color, the misaligned pattern, the piece that you were sure was in the wrong box. Everyone else seemed to have weird idiosyncrasies, but not me, I was the most functional normal of them all … or was I? This may be a sobering realization, but if you have gone through your whole life thinking you are normal and everyone else is weird, you may be wrong. That actually is the bad news. The good news is: we really don’t know what normal is anymore, so if 99% of people act a certain way and you are the 1% who doesn’t, who’s the odd bird? I realized that it was me.

In a way, this is a liberating feeling, because I can stop trying to be normal and finally let some of my quirky personality shine through. It’s actually fun joining the majority!