Well, it’s the official start of the 2nd week of the new year. It feels like the 2nd month!
What happens to time as we get older? There just seems to be so much less of it the older I get. No matter how organized I try to be, how much I try to simplify my life, how much prioritizing and goal setting I attempt it just all gets away from me and I’m left rushing around like a chicken with its head cut off.
I’m up (or try to be up) every day at 5 a.m. so that I can get some writing done. I’m lucky if I get a few scratches down in my journals and manage to post to this blog once or twice a week. Where does that time go? I know that I’m not just sitting staring, slack-jawed into space because I can feel my heart racing as I anticipate the day ahead of me.
It seems that I am perpetually living in the future. As I write this I am already in the middle of February contemplating the Family Day weekend. I have already been to Calgary on Feb. 4th and 5th and am wondering when, exactly when, it will be that I have time to go looking for the new vehicle I need. Spring Break is coming up — at the end of March — maybe there’ll be some free time then.
Time is a very tricky entity. When we were kids it moved so slowly and leisurely it drove us nuts. We, who wanted to move at a lightning pace couldn’t stand it — we were forever lamenting that things took so long. Then, one day, I can’t exactly say when it happens, time catches up with us. For a brief time we live ‘in the moment’.
Everything is beautifully synchronized — we can manage every detail of our lives and our kids lives and work and manage a home and have fun and it’s all so good and we think we’re on top of the world and nobody has ever been so totally in control of their life as we are at that illusory moment in time.
And then. . .
it passes. Time speeds past us and we’re left spinning in its wake wondering just what on earth has happened to our ability to manage our lives. In my 50’s now, I am constantly playing catch-up. I get up earlier in the morning than I ever dreamed I would. Ten years ago had someone told me I’d be getting up at this time every day to write, work, take care of house work, send emails, check Facebook, journal — you name it — I’d have said they were crazy.
As a kid, or, even as a young adult, I can remember sleeping in til 10 or 11 o’clock on a weekend, getting up and managing to accomplish all sorts of things and still having time to just ‘be’. To sleep in past 8 o’clock on a weekend seems utterly irresponsible now. How could I possibly, when I have so much that needs doing and so little time to do it in?
I actually find it depressing to admit that I am often in bed by 10:30 on a Saturday night — but if I’m not I don’t have the energy to get up and try to wrestle my next day into submission. Any ‘spare’ time that I might delude myself I have, time that I might like to sit and read a book in, or take up crocheting again in, or pursue my photography hobby in, is generally taken up by all the stuff that has somehow managed to get away from me. If I want to do any of those things I have to schedule them in, or worse cheat myself and deliberately play hookie from all my other obligations. And then where does that leave me? Scrambling to find more time to try and make up for lost time. Forget about just ‘being’!
Anyway. . .
as I sit here trying to get this rambling thought down semi-coherently I’m beginning to worry about what time it is, because I still have to go get on the treadmill, have a shower, make lunch, change the laundry. . .
Enjoy your day, make the most of your time — it really does go by in a heartbeat.