You chase after it, and then you run away from it. It's dictated by objects far beyond our planet, but it dictates everything on it.You wish it away and then you wish for more in the day. It has a frightening amount of control over our lives, making us obsessed and worried. It's a number on a screen, a number on the wall, a number called when yours starts and it's a number that is called when yours is up.
Time is an inconceivable notion that I have a hard time wrapping my head around. It's a measuring system that spans fields and studies, used in a different way in every activity and job. Who or what dictates it? Sure, you could give a scientific answer or a theological answer based on your beliefs. But actually, though. Everyone tracks their minutes and hours...but no one greater than us is really keeping track. Time has become it's own cognitive schema - a script - in our mind. We have expectations of what is supposed to happen when - so everything doesn't all happen at once. Through experience, we have come to accept time as the ruler of our day and the ruler of our actions. We just accept it.
Something I have learned about time is that everyone has formed their own perception of it. Of course, we all know the basics - things are planned for certain times, and you have to abide by those times, or, well, you're not participating in anything I guess. You'll miss classes and exams, be fired from jobs, miss your flights and, well maybe not even wake up in the morning to start your day. But the perception of the importance of time -- the value of each minute of sunlight -- varies from person to person. The extent to which a person values their time in turn affects their day to day life -- how hung up they get on scheduling, if they are occasionally tardy, and if time is something that is eating away at their mind, reminding them every second that yet another second has just ticked by.
And this is where I get to my point about me. Time -- this word haunts me, scares me and nips me in the ass. It's like I can't get enough done, I can't work fast enough. I can't wake up early enough. And I hate it. I have to plan everything, down to the half hour. The clock is my worst enemy. If I sleep until 9, I freak out -- I am told 9 is still early, but in my head, it is only 3 hours until noon -- 3 hours until the day is half way done. But on a positive note, I get a hell of a lot done, and it is so satisfying at the end of the day. Unfortunately, I am always disappointed in myself that I could have gotten more done. If only I didn't sit down and chill for an hour. If only I didn't give myself an hour to breathe. You're not allowed to breathe. You don't have time to breathe.
I am a very stressed person to begin with and with the added weight of these floating numbers, I am just overwhelmed. It can't be good for me, but no matter how hard I try to take a moment to breathe, it's halted with the intrusive thought of another thing I need to get done. A perfect example is the fact that summer is more than halfway over. Where did the time go? Between my summer classes and my job in the biology lab, I felt like I would still have time for so many things to enjoy in the city. I guess those expectations have been put to the side for a little bit as my priorities take a hold. The thing is -- I HAVE done so much, an incredible lot to be frank. But expectations kill your buzz. If your expectations are not met, what else is there to feel other than disappointment, loss or regret? Expectations set you up for the worst. Counterfactual thoughts love me, and with my high stress and racing thoughts, the rebound effect is often in place (Oh, thanks summer psych courses for teaching me about all the errors in my social cognition).
But I'm starting to feel that me being more aware of my crazy time expectations for myself actually are helping me keep them in check. When I do something I enjoy, I don't regret it. I just make up for it by studying a little more one day. It's helpful that a lot of the things I enjoy doing are productive, so I don't feel bad about it anyways. Like yoga 3 times a week, running in the morning, writing and reading. It's the summer, and honestly, come September, my stresses will far outweigh any stress I feel now. For now, I think it's better for me to let go of these inconceivable numbers and ignore the ticking of the second hand for a few moments; breathing in peace is a wonderful thing. Next time I start feeling guilty for sitting down and reading a magazine, I'll leave the clock in the other room and let it keep on ticking for a few moments and instead of worrying about getting wasted time back, I'll value it as me-time instead.
The numbers of time will always be floating around my head, bumping into it every now and again reminding me of the hour. But I think it's okay to gently blow them away so I can enjoy a little space without time on my mind (even if it is still ticking) until those numbers come back and nudge me once again.
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