Self-Compassion and Procrastination: Returning to a Task

Masha wants to illustrate books and plans to prepare a portfolio. In the evening, she opens work by artists she admires, saves more examples, and moves her blank sheet aside. The portfolio is supposed to show immediately that she deserves attention. A first sketch seems too small for such a task.

Before bed, Masha remembers that she has drawn nothing again. Uncertainty gains a reproach: “If I can’t even begin, what kind of illustrator am I?” Tomorrow she will have to return both to the work and to that judgement. It is worth examining what happens between wanting to draw and postponing another attempt.

A portfolio contains several tasks: selecting work, making new illustrations, arranging pages, and asking for feedback. When everything becomes one test of ability, any sheet can feel decisive. Looking for examples lets her remain close to the subject temporarily without attempting her own work.

That is one possible reading of Masha’s situation. Someone else may struggle to begin because of overload, an unclear brief, missing materials, or time already occupied by responsibilities. Rest and a deliberate decision to postpone something should not automatically be called procrastination. First establish what was feasible and why it did not happen.

Kristin Neff’s approach describes self-compassion through kindness towards oneself, a sense of shared humanity, and mindful awareness of experience. Masha can explore these in one actual evening without first requiring herself to love every piece of work.

She might write: “I’m afraid of showing an imperfect drawing. I want the first attempt to prove my ability.” That describes a difficulty fairly precisely. It does not mean the portfolio is finished or that no work is needed; it clarifies what feels hard to begin.

In Masha’s story, her parents shamed poor grades and expected only the highest marks. Nobody is grading her now, yet before sketching she again wants certainty that the result will not invite shame. She can remember that experience without making it explain every present delay.

She asks what she would say to a friend in this situation. Perhaps: “You’ve wanted this for a long time and you’re worried. Show me one sketch that doesn’t have to be sent anywhere yet.” She can offer herself the same feasible arrangement. Support becomes specific when it accounts for time, difficulty, and a need for help.

Finished portfolios mostly show selected results. Masha may not know how many attempts were left outside those pages. Talking with a colleague about working drafts provides different information from comparing her blank sheet with someone else’s completed selection.

Other people’s difficulties do not erase hers. She can, however, examine “I’m the only one who can’t manage” and request a specific response: does the composition of one drawing make sense? She need not prove readiness for every professional commission at once.

After posting a drawing, Masha receives a sarcastic comment about its proportions. She rushes to revise everything and only later notices hurt and a wish to delete the work. She can pause and examine the content of the comment separately from how it was delivered.

Proportions can be checked against her own criteria or with someone whose feedback helps her learn. Rudeness need not be accepted as a necessary condition of development. Equally, an unpleasant feeling alone does not determine whether a comment contains useful detail. She can return to checking it later.

Sirois’s 2014 study found procrastination associated with lower self-compassion and higher stress across four samples. This relationship between measures does not establish that one exercise will eliminate procrastination.

In Breines and Chen’s 2012 research, experiments suggested that a compassionate response to failure could support motivation to improve. That supports exploring self-support alongside action, not a guarantee that any postponed task will be completed.

The next evening, Masha can choose one action: a small composition sketch for one page. Before starting, she decides that today she is checking the arrangement of figures, not preparing finished work for an employer. Afterwards, she notes what she could see and what still needs clarification.

If the sketch still does not happen, return to the circumstances. A reference may be missing, the evening occupied, or even this action unclear. Several entries can help distinguish a recurring obstacle from “I never do anything.” Asking for help or changing the plan may be appropriate.

In the EQ diary, you can record the event, the feeling, what you said to yourself, and a response that would be supportive and truthful. For example: “I postponed the sketch and felt upset. Drawing matters to me. Today I’ll clarify one composition without requiring an immediate public showing.” An ordinary notebook works too.

Insight Planner can hold the next action and a time to return to it. A note does not require completing everything under any circumstances; it provides a specific arrangement to examine. If postponement persistently disrupts work and everyday tasks, discussing the difficulties with a professional may be more useful than adding demands on yourself.