‘So sorry, I’m on my way now– I promise.’ If you’ve been on the receiving end of this message from me then, sorry, I was lying. Yes, I’m that person – messaging you while you’re already where we’d planned to meet. As for me? I’m most likely WhatsApping, knickers around my ankles, as I sit on the loo applying my lipstick. I have every intention of leaving. Really, I do. It’s just, I need to find my keys. And pack my bag. And get changed – because suddenly I hate what I’m wearing.
I’ve missed the beginning of a friend’s wedding, trailing in at the back as she walked down the aisle – sweat pooling in my armpits, mouthing ‘sorry’ at anyone daring to look at me instead of the bride. If I’m at the airport, they will call my name over the tannoy while I’m idly sniffing perfumes I’ll never buy. And I’ve watched more trains pull away from me as I scream into the empty void of a platform than I care to count. I don’t mean to be late;
I always allow myself lots of time – it’s just that, somehow, I find a way to fill it.
But while my lateness may have been charming at university, the repercussions are becoming harder to ignore. It’s costing me money, of course (all those trains I missed? I had to book myself on to the next one), but it’s hurting my relationships, too; my punctual friends have stopped inviting me out and my husband is threatening divorce (okay, that might be a slight dramatisation). And so it’s with my money and marriage in mind
that I’ve decided to set myself a challenge. Can anyone help me become an ‘early’ person
Task one: What’s your late style?
It turns out the chronically late (yours truly) are late for reasons that have very little to do with public transport. Instead, we share a late ‘trait’, which relates to something deeper; it’s an unconscious way of trying to communicate the way we feel. There are those who are late because they simply don’t want to be there (more on this later) and then there are those, like me, who have an ‘anxious late style’. That’s according to Jodie Cariss, therapist and founder of the mental health platform Self Space.
She explains that my constant lateness and the distress it causes me (the guilt is constant) is a form of self-sabotage. To truly succeed in my experiment, I learn, I need to try for at least two weeks – but for the benefit of myself, rather than for others. ‘Experience being in charge – it’s mastery over your own life,’ she says. It’s an appealing prospect; I want to feel in control – to not feel like I’m spiralling every time I leave the house. But figuring that out is the easy part…
Task two: Put all your essentials in one place
I can never find my keys. But when I explain this to Cariss, she suspects I’m deflecting my anxiety onto an inanimate object. ‘If you’re worrying about where your keys are, you’re not tuning into the anxiety you’re feeling about leaving the house,’ she explains. It seems to stem from my homebody status; the fact that I hate leaving the safe, snuggly cocoon of my bedroom and my dog. Cariss tells me I’m colluding with the drama – creating it to distract myself from my worry about leaving my bubble. Minimising this drama begins with a simple tactic: essentially, I need to find places to put all my stuff.
It’s not the first time I’ve heard this, of course. ‘Yeah, yeah…’ I’ll say, as my husband picks up my keys from the inside of the fridge. But it’s the first time the advice has landed. I start with my keys, putting them in a pot in the kitchen as soon as I get home. It takes a mammoth amount of concentration not to throw them on the bed, by the kitchen sink or wherever else they happen to land upon arrival. But after two weeks, it begins to become a habit. Keys mastered, I move on to my bag. The old me would get home and shove it in a corner, contents and all. But I make a conscious effort to empty it with care, putting all my things in one place. Sure enough, without the drama that comes with locating all of my belongings, my anxiety about leaving the house begins to subside.
Task three: Choose your outfit the night before
Standing in a pile of hastily discarded clothes while frantically searching for a pair of earrings. That’s how getting ready tends to go for me. And, more often than not, I end up in an outfit I don’t like. ‘When you know you haven’t got enough time to decide what you want, you’re more likely to feel pressured into wearing something you don’t feel comfortable in,’ says Cariss. Her advice? ‘Simplify your wardrobe. Get rid of everything you don’t like. Every small decision you make will save you decision time later.’ I spend an evening trying on outfits, figuring out what I want to keep and which items work with each other. It’s a useful exercise – and one I usually reserve for the 15 minutes prior to leaving the house.
But that’s not all. I also begin to set aside some time the night before I have to be somewhere to pick out what I’m going to wear. I try it on; I imagine how I’ll do my hair; I consider what earrings will work with it. Then, I think about all the things I have to do that day and imagine myself doing those things in this outfit. To my surprise, it’s helped me enjoy my clothes again – and I no longer lose vital getting-out-the-house time to indecisiveness.
Task four: No more doom-scrolling
Pre-challenge, I’d begin most mornings by logging on to Instagram with the intention of having a quick scroll. In what felt like 10 minutes, I’d lose an hour of my life to someone else’s grid. ‘Take the apps off your phone,’ advises Cariss, when I tell her as much. This, she assures me, will help me avoid temptation entirely. ‘And you can only look at them when you’re sitting down at your computer,’ she adds.
I do cheat a bit on this one. I don’t remove my apps, but I do move them to a different part of my phone where I’m less aware of them. I’ve also banned myself from scrolling through Instagram when I have somewhere to be. I suspect you won’t need me to tell you that this tactic works. And when I do manage to arrive somewhere early, I know I can reward myself with some uninterrupted scrolling. A technique, it transpires, that has legs…
Task five: Make a pre-date with yourself
‘Pick a treat that you can have when you arrive somewhere early,’ Cariss says when talk turns to rewarding good behaviour. But it means I have to plan my route, adding 20 minutes to the time I think my journey will take. Usually, something goes wrong, and I end up arriving on time. But if all goes well, I get some free time to myself. I used to think being early would be lonely, but I just have a coffee and read my book. It’s a simple pleasure, but it’s glorious.
Task six: Never ever do that ‘one more thing’
The moment I have to leave the house is often when I decide to make the bed. But do I need to do it? This, Cariss says, is also linked to my anxiety about leaving the house. ‘A friend’s mum used to wash the curtains before going on holiday,’ she shares, laughing. ‘But if you can’t leave something, you may be controlling your distressed feelings with order. It might feel distressing to leave it, but can you do it when you get home and make the choice not to be late?’ I’d never looked at it as a ‘choice’ before. But of course it is. As I’ve come to realise, the anxiety of leaving a dirty plate in the sink isn’t as anxiety-inducing as being late.
Will I ever call myself an ‘early person’? I don’t know. I might always exist on a tightrope of vast extremes. But I’ve learned that I enjoy being early. With the exception of certain scenarios (I’ll never be the first to a Zoom call), I’ll make a conscious effort to try.
Becoming an early person: what works?
The 20-minute rule
I used to allow an hour to walk my dog, but it always took longer. When planning your time, add 20 minutes to every single activity. It also allows a buffer for any travel mishaps.
Ground yourself
If you find yourself spiralling, Cariss advises lying on the floor to ground yourself. And it works: you reassess and bring your mind back to your body. Not ideal if you’re out in public or already late, though. Pause, close your eyes and take a deep breath instead.
Make important choices the day before
Plan your route and what you’re going to wear to take all the drama out of the day. Even if you think you thrive on it, I promise you, you don’t.
Ask yourself: Do I really want to go?
‘One reason for being late is that you don’t want to go,’ Cariss says. ‘We say yes, then procrastinate. We want to say, “I don’t want to come.” But we show up anyway – albeit in a way that shows we don’t want to be there.’ Be honest – cancel any plans you don’t want to do (except for meetings, medical appointments and other non-negotiables). You can’t be late if you’re no longer going.
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Alice is a freelance writer, editor and author of Tattoo Street Style. She's currently working with the features team at Cosmopolitan UK (across print and digital). She loves writing in long-form, and covers everything from issues and news affecting women to books, health, art and culture. When she's not working, she's probs watching reality TV, reading a book or out walking with her dog.
