How much self-control do you have?

 How much self-control do you have?

When it’s 10:30 p.m. on a Friday night? Not a lot. The hunger kicks in right as I’ve managed to convince myself to go to bed early for once. Instead, like clockwork, I make my way downstairs, take a left to rummage through the pantry, then make a u-turn to the fridge if my search turns out unsatisfactory. Finally, armed with a bowl, chopsticks, and the night’s conquests, I settle myself onto my chair, start playing my latest c-drama, and dig in.

I have little to no problem with putting my life on hold for a bit of personal indulgence. One of my favorite excuses? Snack time! Who can resist? We all have our best (or should I say worst) methods of procrastination, and escaping the world for some munch and chill time is mine. It’s a bad habit—my mother makes this very clear every few weeks, something about indigestion and hair loss—but it’s easy.

Locking in is a difficult feat to accomplish when the daily Wordle is but a click away and you have a shelf of snacks at your disposal. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve been forced to work harder, but at the same time I procrastinate more as well. The busier I am, the more I crave the escape a good distraction gives me.

But once I start to see the bottom of my favorite snack’s bag, a different type of rational returns to me. While I’m good at letting loose, I’m even better at saving. The juiciest piece of meat for the final bite of dinner, the last piece of milk candy from China, the final serving of kettle corn for a later day that might never come.

In my mentality of saving the best for last, I often lose out on the small moments of joy. I convince myself that now isn’t the right time, that I need to save something for the perfect moment of craving, but that moment usually never comes. A jar of candy with one of each flavor left might sit for months, only to leave my room after I realize it's been long expired.

It may seem like self-control, but in reality, it’s just another form of procrastination—avoidance. There’s something about the finality of an empty bag that’s just sad. So I delay change and letting go for as long as possible, whether it's insignificant as a snack that I know won’t be in stock for another year or important as a confrontation that’ll make or break an old friendship. Just like how I avoid work, I hide from decisions too. I “wait for the best moment”, but when opportunities are fleeting, they’re gone before my indecisiveness can even react.

However, like learning that lemons taste even more sour right after you’ve had candy, my junior year workload has taught me that my system of procrastinating before starting on my work needs some serious revision. Scrolling on my phone keeps me entertained, but it saps my motivation even more, and only the feeling of hitting submit is true relaxation. And though I still tend to hold on to the last few pieces of chocolate for a little too long, I know that me and my mom will go shopping again and buy new snacks. Though it’s a risk, better things will usually come along if you’re brave enough to move on. Everything comes to an end, whether it's an assignment I want to be done with or a moment I want to stay in forever, and I’ve learned ripping off the bandaid in both situations can be more healing. Hoarding and avoiding homework only ends up creating more stress, and I’ve learned that I need to be considerate of my future self as well. The decision to jump into something or leave it behind is the most intimidating step, but once you cross that barrier, the rest comes more easily.