February 2021
Ninety-one of 104m. That is what popped up as soon as I stopped playing my favorite Christmas movie last month. I had been doing my usual half-working, half-watching tv while laying on the couch routine when I decided to turn it off. “I have to drive to work in an hour,” I reasoned to myself. “I better get ready.” Then those numbers popped up and forced me to do quick mental math. I only had 13 minutes left of my favorite Christmas movie, but because I had to leave my house in an hour I just decided to quit. Or did I stop the movie because I was bored? Because I am afraid of endings?
This one little instance brought me around to one of my biggest existential crises and personal realizations to date: I can’t finish anything. Like, anything. When I take dishes out of the dishwasher, I stop with two forks left. It’s too much. I can’t do it. When I do my laundry, I can get it from the washer to the dryer, but when it comes to actually putting it up, piles of my socks and masks end up resting in atop the dryer for a week until I finally have the courage to walk them the ten seconds down the hall and to my room. I know what you’re thinking: “She sounds like a great roommate!” I am being sarcastic. I know I can be a pain to live with because of this, until recently undiagnosed, problem.
I pour the water in the coffee machine but can’t put the grounds in until later that night. I hand wash all of my dishes except for that one cup that is not dishwasher safe. I type up a ten-page essay, but don’t have the heart to add the cover page and running head until ten minutes before it is due. When writing this blog post, I finished everything before dinner except one paragraph.
Back to the Christmas movie and giant revelation: I can’t finish anything. If there is one thing I do not like to hear, it is that I can’t do something. So, as any good (and stubborn) individual would do, I sat back down and pressed play. And I finished the movie. I listened to the music soar at the climax, laughed and cried at the resolution, and even danced around my living room as the credits played, just like I used to do as a child. And when it was done and I had reached 104 out of 104 minutes, I felt great. This is my favorite Christmas movie, after all. Arguably one of my favorite movies of all time, yet it took a feat of herculean strength to get through it.
Even after the movie had finished and I drove to work, I could not stop thinking about how much of an accomplishment it felt like to have finished a movie. Curious to look further into my inability to finish anything, I looked back on the streaming site I was using and found that, to my surprise, this was the first movie I had finished in nearly a month. Now, I am a busy person, so it is not unusual for me to have some form of media constantly playing in the background as I work, but I had never before considered how little I actually get through in these situations.
What bothered me most about this scenario is not that I had unfinished movies in my que. It wasn’t even the fact that I may sometimes be a terrible roommate. No, what bothered me the most was the level of difficulty that I encountered in finishing something that I enjoy. I am not a movie buff, but I can appreciate great art in any form and when I am not working try to give music, books, movies and television my full attention. I love to watch movies and do not find it to be a chore at all, so if I struggle to finish something I enjoy, how will I ever finish the things that I don’t? If I can’t make time to reach a resolution and joyfully dance around my house when a movie ends, how will I ever have the strength to finish writing that essay I put off for three months, the IRB sitting in my online portal or that email sitting unsent in my drafts box?
Here my train of thought splits into two. First, I consider the harm I am causing myself when I deny myself the conclusion. When I don’t take time to celebrate. Not finishing something that I enjoy is just as dissatisfying as putting off the things I don’t like, if not more. When I don’t get to the end of the movie, I lose the joy inherent in the emotionally truthful conclusion. When I don’t take time to celebrate after submitting my IRB and instead jump right into the next project, I forget to celebrate what I have accomplished. And it all comes crashing down. If I am working to accomplish something, to gain something, to feel something, I deny myself any sense of accomplishment when I skip over the ending. There is a difference between complacency and celebration; why can’t I find it?
Next, I consider the harm I am causing myself when I deny myself any conclusion at all. What happens if I never take out the last plate from the dishwasher, put my socks in their drawer, submit the essay or finish the project? Or what if I do all these things, but cause myself extreme unnecessary stress and anxiety because I put them off for so long that they become rushed and incohesive? I can answer that question, because it is what I do now. And it does cause me unnecessary worry and late nights. Like procrastination with an added bonus.
Finally, having the emotional wavelength to see these problems for what they are, how do I work to fix them? The answer to this question did not come from me, but instead from two important women in my life whom I have had the privilege of working with this semester. You see, I came across a situation a few days ago where I had the exciting privilege of being able to submit an application to become a doctoral student here at Texas A&M — something that I find highly exciting, and also highly nerve wracking. Completing the application was arduous, and I spread it out over many, many days, but as expected, when it got to the end, I just couldn’t seem to finish. I came up with questions, wrote and rewrote and did anything in my power to not get it done. And then I received an email telling me to just hit submit. And later that day I talked to a colleague who told me to hit submit. Through my emails and my tone, they could tell — I was never going to be done. So, I needed to simply click submit.
There is a huge difference in being “done” and just hitting submit, but I need to work on getting better about just hitting submit. Maybe it isn’t perfect, but it is finished. When times are tough, I have to remember this. So maybe the plate gets put back on the wrong shelf, but it is out of the dishwasher. Maybe my socks get put up without a match, but at least they are in my drawer. Maybe nothing will ever be perfect or ever be done, but it will be submitted.
The advice was easier heard than followed, but I did submit my application. I pressed the button, paid the fee, climbed the mountain and slayed my dragon. Part one of my dilemma about never finishing things had been fixed — I finished it! But then when I clicked the button, I immediately had the sense of hollowness I always do. If I am not doing something, I am empty and need to fill myself up by doing and being more. So instead of doing just that, I sat with that feeling for a minute and refused to skip the ending. I just submitted an application to become a doctoral student. I deserve to celebrate! And I did. I took a break, watched a movie, and drank hot chocolate without typing one word or doing one piece of onboarding. It was incredible.
After all of my self-reflection and my Ph.D. application victory, I still find it hard to finish things. I probably always will. But this same weakness also becomes a strength as I multitask, bouncing between my four jobs, three projects and three classes week in and week out. It has its place as long as I use it judicially and remember to not only finish things, but to celebrate these endings as well. As the title suggests, it all boils down to two things: don’t skip the ending and just hit submit.
—Delaney Couri
Delaney is a master’s student in the Department of Teaching, Learning, and Culture.
This one little instance brought me around to one of my biggest existential crises and personal realizations to date: I can’t finish anything. Like, anything. When I take dishes out of the dishwasher, I stop with two forks left. It’s too much. I can’t do it. When I do my laundry, I can get it from the washer to the dryer, but when it comes to actually putting it up, piles of my socks and masks end up resting in atop the dryer for a week until I finally have the courage to walk them the ten seconds down the hall and to my room. I know what you’re thinking: “She sounds like a great roommate!” I am being sarcastic. I know I can be a pain to live with because of this, until recently undiagnosed, problem.
I pour the water in the coffee machine but can’t put the grounds in until later that night. I hand wash all of my dishes except for that one cup that is not dishwasher safe. I type up a ten-page essay, but don’t have the heart to add the cover page and running head until ten minutes before it is due. When writing this blog post, I finished everything before dinner except one paragraph.
Back to the Christmas movie and giant revelation: I can’t finish anything. If there is one thing I do not like to hear, it is that I can’t do something. So, as any good (and stubborn) individual would do, I sat back down and pressed play. And I finished the movie. I listened to the music soar at the climax, laughed and cried at the resolution, and even danced around my living room as the credits played, just like I used to do as a child. And when it was done and I had reached 104 out of 104 minutes, I felt great. This is my favorite Christmas movie, after all. Arguably one of my favorite movies of all time, yet it took a feat of herculean strength to get through it.
Even after the movie had finished and I drove to work, I could not stop thinking about how much of an accomplishment it felt like to have finished a movie. Curious to look further into my inability to finish anything, I looked back on the streaming site I was using and found that, to my surprise, this was the first movie I had finished in nearly a month. Now, I am a busy person, so it is not unusual for me to have some form of media constantly playing in the background as I work, but I had never before considered how little I actually get through in these situations.
What bothered me most about this scenario is not that I had unfinished movies in my que. It wasn’t even the fact that I may sometimes be a terrible roommate. No, what bothered me the most was the level of difficulty that I encountered in finishing something that I enjoy. I am not a movie buff, but I can appreciate great art in any form and when I am not working try to give music, books, movies and television my full attention. I love to watch movies and do not find it to be a chore at all, so if I struggle to finish something I enjoy, how will I ever finish the things that I don’t? If I can’t make time to reach a resolution and joyfully dance around my house when a movie ends, how will I ever have the strength to finish writing that essay I put off for three months, the IRB sitting in my online portal or that email sitting unsent in my drafts box?
Here my train of thought splits into two. First, I consider the harm I am causing myself when I deny myself the conclusion. When I don’t take time to celebrate. Not finishing something that I enjoy is just as dissatisfying as putting off the things I don’t like, if not more. When I don’t get to the end of the movie, I lose the joy inherent in the emotionally truthful conclusion. When I don’t take time to celebrate after submitting my IRB and instead jump right into the next project, I forget to celebrate what I have accomplished. And it all comes crashing down. If I am working to accomplish something, to gain something, to feel something, I deny myself any sense of accomplishment when I skip over the ending. There is a difference between complacency and celebration; why can’t I find it?
Next, I consider the harm I am causing myself when I deny myself any conclusion at all. What happens if I never take out the last plate from the dishwasher, put my socks in their drawer, submit the essay or finish the project? Or what if I do all these things, but cause myself extreme unnecessary stress and anxiety because I put them off for so long that they become rushed and incohesive? I can answer that question, because it is what I do now. And it does cause me unnecessary worry and late nights. Like procrastination with an added bonus.
Finally, having the emotional wavelength to see these problems for what they are, how do I work to fix them? The answer to this question did not come from me, but instead from two important women in my life whom I have had the privilege of working with this semester. You see, I came across a situation a few days ago where I had the exciting privilege of being able to submit an application to become a doctoral student here at Texas A&M — something that I find highly exciting, and also highly nerve wracking. Completing the application was arduous, and I spread it out over many, many days, but as expected, when it got to the end, I just couldn’t seem to finish. I came up with questions, wrote and rewrote and did anything in my power to not get it done. And then I received an email telling me to just hit submit. And later that day I talked to a colleague who told me to hit submit. Through my emails and my tone, they could tell — I was never going to be done. So, I needed to simply click submit.
There is a huge difference in being “done” and just hitting submit, but I need to work on getting better about just hitting submit. Maybe it isn’t perfect, but it is finished. When times are tough, I have to remember this. So maybe the plate gets put back on the wrong shelf, but it is out of the dishwasher. Maybe my socks get put up without a match, but at least they are in my drawer. Maybe nothing will ever be perfect or ever be done, but it will be submitted.
The advice was easier heard than followed, but I did submit my application. I pressed the button, paid the fee, climbed the mountain and slayed my dragon. Part one of my dilemma about never finishing things had been fixed — I finished it! But then when I clicked the button, I immediately had the sense of hollowness I always do. If I am not doing something, I am empty and need to fill myself up by doing and being more. So instead of doing just that, I sat with that feeling for a minute and refused to skip the ending. I just submitted an application to become a doctoral student. I deserve to celebrate! And I did. I took a break, watched a movie, and drank hot chocolate without typing one word or doing one piece of onboarding. It was incredible.
After all of my self-reflection and my Ph.D. application victory, I still find it hard to finish things. I probably always will. But this same weakness also becomes a strength as I multitask, bouncing between my four jobs, three projects and three classes week in and week out. It has its place as long as I use it judicially and remember to not only finish things, but to celebrate these endings as well. As the title suggests, it all boils down to two things: don’t skip the ending and just hit submit.
—Delaney Couri
Delaney is a master’s student in the Department of Teaching, Learning, and Culture.
About the Author
Delaney Couri
Delaney is a second-year doctoral student studying equity, social justice, religion, music, higher education, and the LGBTQ+ community. They also have an interest in interdisciplinary fields. Delaney has been in College Station since 2015, receiving both their undergraduate and graduate degrees from Texas A&M. Delaney enjoys cooking, practicing yoga, painting, attending church, and walking. They find the most joy in community and are very close with family, friends, and their cat.
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