ushing off the subway platform, I race through the crowded streets to try to make lunch with my friend. I’ve canceled on her twice this week, something she isn’t exactly thrilled about. As I cross an intersection, my foot catches the curb and I tumble to the ground, my phone smashing into the busy street. Grabbing it quickly, my daily reminders flash through the cracked screen — wash dishes, clean room, buy tampons, email manager.
I groan, remembering that I was supposed to do all of these things before lunch. How could I forget, again?
The tasks would take my friend less than an hour to finish, but errands require an entire morning for me to complete. I start to panic, contemplating how I will squeeze them into my schedule now. Overwhelmed by the thought of having to sit down and socialize while feeling on edge, I call my friend to cancel. She digs into me for being inconsiderate. I head home, filled with shame, but instead of beginning my tasks, I push the clothes on my bed aside, turn off my phone, and crawl under the covers.
My inability to properly plan ahead and complete daily tasks has dwarfed my personal growth and well-being since I moved away from home seven years ago. I live in a constant state of disorder, expressed through missed appointments, forgotten text messages, and errands and assignments that take twice as long than my peers to complete. Even tidying the garbage littered across my apartment feels too overwhelming. My poor organizational and cleaning skills have fractured my relationships, prevented me from thriving in jobs, and in the process, destroyed my self-worth.