The Comfortable Lie We Keep Repeating
Everyone has said, “I don’t have time”. I know I did. It’s the most socially acceptable lie we tell. It sounds reasonable. Responsible, even. And it’s kind of comfortable, as it suggests the problem is external — too many meetings, too many messages, too many demands. Not really my fault.
But when I look honestly at my days, that explanation collapses. I still have time to scroll, to switch between minor tasks. Time to stay busy just enough to feel productive.
The issue was never time. It is wasting it willingly because it’s easier than what we should be really doing.
It is some kind of avoidance. Not dramatic avoidance. Quiet avoidance.
Procrastination Isn’t Laziness, It’s Protection
For a long time, I treated procrastination as a personal flaw. A lack of discipline. A motivation issue. Maybe even laziness. Obviously that framing never helped.
What helped was realizing that procrastination is mostly emotional, not logistical. It’s a way of protecting ourselves from discomfort. From uncertainty, from possible failure, from confronting the gap between where we are and where we want to be.
Scrolling is easy, refining a system feels productive. In contrast, starting an uncomfortable task forces us to face competence, doubt, and responsibility. So, we take the easy route most of the time, often half-conscious of it.
And we delay, not because we don’t care, but because we care enough to be afraid.
Why Better Systems Didn’t Fix It
Like many engineers, my first instinct was optimization. Let’s create a better system, full of rules. Have more structured planning. And keep looking at new productivity frameworks. I could spend hours perfecting a system instead of spending 30 minutes doing the thing it was meant to support.
I’m not going to lie. That helped — but only marginally.
Because systems don’t decide what we avoid. They only organize what we’re willing to face.
This is one of the quiet truths behind Atomic Habits, by James Clear: behavior follows identity. If part of us identifies as someone who avoids discomfort, no system will override that for long.
And in the end, we don’t rise to the level of our tools. We fall to the level of our self-honesty.
The Trade We Make Without Noticing
Every day, we make a trade that rarely feels like a decision. We favor short-term comfort in exchange for long-term regret.
The cost isn’t immediate, which is why it works so well. We defer it to the future us, as if we are strangers we don’t mind overworking. Problem solved.
Ten minutes here, a quick check there. Did I receive new messages on Teams? Let me do just one more small task before the important one.
By the end of the day, nothing obvious went wrong, and we actually did some tasks — except that the work that mattered didn’t progress as it could have.
Regret and guilt don’t arrive loudly. It accumulates silently. Until we feel miserable.
Impostor Syndrome and the Fear of Real Work
Day after day the cycle repeats. And it inevitably leads to another layer that’s harder to admit: impostor syndrome thrives in distraction. As long as we’re busy, we never have to test ourselves. As long as we’re preparing, we never have to commit.
Deep, meaningful work is a threat to the person whose self-doubt is fueled by procrastination. Because when we face hard work, it forces a confrontation with reality. Can I actually do this? Am I as capable as I think? What if I fail when I truly try?
Avoidance isn’t always about pleasure. Most of the time it’s about self-preservation.
Time as a Mirror
Time doesn’t judge. It repeatedly reflects what we give our attention to, and becomes evidence of what we value, regardless of what we claim to value.
We can try to manage time as we want, apply a shiny new system. But without a clear commitment to face our fears and a willingness to step outside our comfort zone, it will be of little to no use.
That realization was uncomfortable for me. It still is, leaving no space for excuses. Nor guilt. Nor pressure.
Just plain and honest ownership.