I keep telling myself when I finally have an afternoon with nothing on my schedule, I am going to catch up on reading, clean the basement, run errands, clear my inbox, work on my blog, or sort through my open browser tabs. Instead, I end up wasting time on the internet, having a snack, nodding off to sleep, or thinking about all the other stuff I should be doing. I like to believe I am passionate about making the most of my time, but my actions suggest otherwise.

I’ve spent years reflecting on why I don’t do what I believe is right for me in those moments, but I’m not sure I have much to show for it. The answers appear to be numerous and complex. As the examples above show, I have a good idea what I want to accomplish, and typically my to-do lists aren’t especially difficult or unpleasant. Yet when the time comes, I often experience a bewildering inner rebellion against doing what I’ve planned and promised myself I would do. Something in me twists and turns, seeking an escape as if I were threatened.

To-do lists threaten the freedom of free afternoons. I crave these moments of freedom, and I loathe any pressure or obligation impinging upon them, including my own well-meaning plans. I feel burdened enough with external responsibilities telling me what to do, so I gleefully reserve the right to do whatever I feel like doing in my free time.

My feelings are entirely understandable, and I am not going to be hard on myself about them. I am also not going to deny that accomplishing my personal goals means sometimes, begrudgingly, submitting to my own plans. Not every minute of my free time needs to be committed to progress—often I just need to chill out—but I can’t overlook the missed opportunities spent shying away from my ambitions.

I’ve imploded many more times than I’ve succeeded. Victory over self is extremely hard-won…and quiet, with little glory. When I submit to my moods rather than to my plans, I revel in my freedom at the same time I stew in my inertia.