About two years ago, I realized that my children and I have a problem with tardiness. While buckling the three-year-old twins into their car seats, I said something fairly innocuous like, “O.K., let’s go!” Then the following exchange took place:

Eleanor: Are we going to be super late?

Me: What? No, we’re not going to be late.

George: Are we going to be CRAZY early?

Me: No. We’re not…where are you getting this?

After thinking about it though, a few things became clear to me. First, that I actually say “super late” and “crazy early”—who knew?! Also, that we’re rarely on time for anything. And finally, that we’re late more often than we are early.

And I have to wonder why. I mean—as a SAHM (stay-at-home mom), I am master of my own destiny. No longer do I find myself stuck in meetings that run late, wondering how I’ll ever make it to daycare on time. I plan our days—decide when we do the shopping and when we go to the playground. I don’t even have to put any effort into my appearance, so the morning wardrobe crisis excuse is a thing of the past…my hairbrush, a definite afterthought.

I never used to think of myself as someone who is always late. But if I wasn’t before, I certainly am now. And I can only come up with one reason: poor time management. More specifically: an inability to get my act together.

You know how people always say that it’s common for a school athlete’s grades to drop off in the off-season? That’s me. I don’t HAVE to leave my house and not come back for 10 hours, every Monday through Friday. Instead, I’m in and out all day, every day, and I can always plan to do something later or tomorrow.

The problem is that I don’t always get to it later or tomorrow…and I’m often scrambling at the last minute.

Why else would it be that I find myself madly trying to finish paying online bills five minutes before a swim lesson at the rec center that is FIVE MINUTES away. Do you know how many times, I’ve pulled into the rec center parking lot at the exact time that a swim lesson is beginning?

If you’re a member, you may have seen me rushing in the door. I’m hard to miss. Picture a wild-eyed, tangle-haired crazy person speed walking ten feet ahead of her three small children, periodically glancing back over her shoulder to bark, “Hurry up, we’re late! Stop running! The sign says no running! Why are you stopping? Get up! Let’s go! We’re GOING to be LATE! Stop running! Hurry up!”

My poor children. Is it possible to develop PTSD after one too many sneak attacks by a drill sergeant brandishing bathing suits and screaming, “Come on! What are you doing? I told you to put these on FIVE MINUTES AGO! Now we’re going to be LATE!” I wonder how many nervous ticks I may be creating…

It seems like this would be a simple habit to correct. I could just plan my day better, not start projects when I know I won’t have much time to complete them. I could even try to do everything early. Now there’s a novel concept!

Though having a schedule for the day or planning to be early for everything may not really be necessary. Because I do actually have some days when I feel less rushed and seem to accomplish more. And a common pattern in all of them is that I do something productive early in the day.

An example of this would be housework. When I have a list of chores that I need to accomplish hanging over my head, I rarely get around to it. But if I’m brushing my teeth, think “that sink is gross,” then just reach for the cleaner, it’s more than likely that I’ll find myself scrubbing all of the bathrooms in the house. I may even drag out the vacuum.

I need momentum.

Maybe that’s what I’m lacking right now: momentum. I’m often so frozen by all of the have to’s and should’s that I have a hard time getting anything done. And when I take a long hard look at my life, I think I’ve always been that way.

Some people feel excited about all the future holds. But for me, it’s oppressive. It looms. I fear that I won’t be able to keep up. So even though I plug away like everyone else, getting things done and celebrating my small triumphs, the anxiety of falling behind is always there.

I’ve never been fast. Even as a child, when we’re all supposed to have fathomless depths of energy and a lightness of spirit that makes running a joyful thing, I was always slow.

We have an old film of a birthday party that serves as proof. I must have been six or seven, and a group of us fill the screen, milling around my backyard in long party dresses. Suddenly there seems to be a communal, unspoken agreement, and we all turn to race down the hill. I was standing at the front and had the clear advantage as a forerunner. But seconds into the sprint, I lost my position as everyone passed me. I finished the race dead last. I was just…slower.

This isn’t a new idea for me; that I operate on a different frequency than others.

Life has always moved too fast for my liking. Even when I was a teenager, when we’re supposed to be at our most daring…fearless. I witnessed my friends’ enthusiasm for college applications and study abroad programs, and just couldn’t relate. They were all so willing to dive headfirst into an unknown future. And I never was. I never jumped. Instead, I was grudgingly dragged over the cliff by the press of the crowd around me. A hesitant lemming.

I’m not ashamed of this, it’s just the way I am. I seem to need a little more time to adjust than other people do. But what is that saying? “Time waits for no one”? And what’s that other saying? “Fake it ’til you make it?” Yeah, I’m painfully familiar with both.

But faking it has become hard now that I’m not surrounded by people who “want to” instead of “have to.”

Now, I start the day with three people who need me to show them an enthusiasm for the future. For seeking out adventures and new experiences. For anticipating, preparing and then DOING. And while I don’t fail miserably at this, it can be pretty half-hearted. Which is why I think I feel so frozen sometimes.

We’re not always late. But we often are, because I have a hard time getting my act together in the morning. And I know that this has a direct correlation to anxiety about falling behind. The weight of it presses down on me.

But I’ve seen that I have far better days when I start accomplishing things before the have to’s begin to loom. On those days, I gather momentum. And that pushes me on, helps me keep up with the fast pace of the world around me.

We all have a different tempo in our approach to life. But majority rules. And when more people beat out a staccato rhythm, it becomes necessary for the rest to figure out how to keep up. March in time.

This is hard for me. But I can do it. I have done it. And I know that it’s my responsibility to keep my place in line and not fall behind. More importantly, it’s up to me to teach all of this to my own children.

I can already see who will follow my lead and require a little more time. That child of my heart will be a bit slower, feel lost sometimes, and maybe even cling to the cliff edge, refusing to jump until the inevitable push from behind is given.

So maybe the slower speed that’s created such difficulty and anxiety for me can serve a purpose. I can provide an example that you don’t have to be like everyone else to accomplish the same things. That you don’t have to reach the finish line first. That as scary as the future may seem, it’s never all that bad once you get there. That you just have to brace yourself and jump.

So that’s what I’m trying to do. Every morning I work on creating some momentum for the day. Even if it’s just making all of the beds, the act of doing something pushes me just tiny bit forward. The first few steps of what will hopefully be a running leap.

I’ll never enjoy jumping. I’ll still lose track of time while dithering. And sometimes I’ll be late. But I won’t let all of that get the best of me, as I so often have in the past. Because I know that regardless of how hard it may be to step off the cliff—how much I dread the drop—once I hit the water, I know how to swim.

Originally posted on Health News: HERE.