It started small. Isn’t that always the way? When I first met Jason, he was charming, attentive, and seemed too good to be true. He’d text me sweet messages all day, call me “his angel,” and tell me how lucky he was to have found me. It felt amazing—until it didn’t.

As a caregiver, there’s nothing harder than watching someone you care about spiral while refusing the help you know they need. You see the self-sabotaging patterns, the destructive choices, and the pain they’re causing themselves—and often others. You know, deep down, that you could offer advice, tools, or solutions that might make a difference. But the hard truth is this: you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.

For the longest time, I thought procrastination meant I was just lazy or unmotivated. But that’s not the case at all. I’ve learned that procrastination is less about laziness and more about fear—fear of failure, fear of the task being harder than you think, or even fear of not doing something “perfectly.”

For years, I lived in a constant state of mental clutter. My brain was a crowded whiteboard, crammed with to-do lists, reminders, anxieties, and random thoughts like, Did I leave the oven on? What’s for dinner? Is that weird cough a sign of something serious?