The tyranny of Tomorrow

‘Tomorrow, tomorrow, I’ll love you tomorrow’ so sings orphan Annie in the musical.

Tomorrow is not a day, it is an idea. It is an excuse. I’ll do my homework tomorrow, I’ll join the gym tomorrow, the diet starts tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. But tomorrow never comes, there is always another tomorrow to pass the buck to.

This week I have cleared the build up of work chaos scattered around the house and rehomed it in the study, the craft in the hobby room and rediscovered areas of floor and table around the house.  It is September the start of the Methodist year and a fresh new set of paperwork and meetings to face so an ideal time to get the filing ready for a fresh start. But just like every year in the job so far I find myself promising myself that this time I really will Get Organised and not have to fight the rearguard action all the time. 

Tomorrow I will be organised. Tomorrow I will be a better minister. From tomorrow I will do x, y and z that I have failed on so often before.

Tomorrow is one of those dangerous ideas, like oughts and shoulds.  A mixture of guilt and a committed pledge – but one that will not be fulfilled, and because we know that we push it onto tomorrow. By doing that we pretend that we are ready to turn over a new leaf and try to put off the guilt of failure to another day.

Depression seems to swing between the horrors of yesterday (only the bad stuff gets remembered) and guilt of tomorrows needing to be faced but looking so far out of reach. Living in the moment for the moment is such a gift.