Journal Entry January 16, 2013
Today I feel a little bit glum, although after I got up I dressed nicely, dabbed on some of my favourite perfume, styled my hair, and arrived at my session early! Wow! I haven’t done so many tasks in succession in a long while. AND in an attempt to make myself presentable! I haven’t cared about doing that since I don’t know when. The fact that I got to my destination early, even if it is just a walk down the hall, is also mind-boggling. I’m NEVER on time. In my family I am famous for showing up to a planned event over an hour late…or more. I don’t know where the time goes. I try to get to places on time. No one believes that, but it is true. Somehow during the time I am getting ready I drift off. I’m not even aware that I am doing it. And when I become conscious of my actions again, I find myself staring fixedly at the paint on the wall. Or at the fibres of the towel I have used to dry my hair. Or at the grain of the wood on the hardwood floor. Or anywhere really. I seem to be examining whatever I am looking at extremely closely without knowing what it is that I am doing. My mind floats to somewhere else and time passes unbeknownst to me. What it is I am thinking about I have no idea. Or IF I am thinking about anything. My brain is a vapid space, a wasteland where thought does not exist. When I realize I am sitting on the bed, or on the floor doing nothing, I get up and proceed to get ready.
At some point I think to look at one of the clocks I have sprinkled generously throughout my house, and I am aghast at how much times has passed. In a panic, I rush through my routine and prepare to leave the house. But even my ‘rushing’ is dialled back from the regular definition of what “rushing” means. My every movement is slow and deliberate, and I seem incapable of moving quickly. My limbs feel dreadfully heavy and weighted down. My head is a giant boulder on my stick frame, balancing precariously. It’s as if my body functions have slowed down to match the speed of which my brain is able to process. The resulting consequence is that I am late…for everything.
But not today. I wonder what Dr. F would make of that?
January 8, 2017
In my world today, I feel it is imperative that I arrive on time. Whether it’s to go to work, or a family function, or a rehearsal, or an appointment, or a meeting, be it personal or professional, or…and so on, ad nauseam. Am I able to achieve this goal? For the most part, I think I am. But I still struggle with time and the management of it. To wake up early in the morning for work, I have five alarm notifications set on my phone in 25 – 30 minute increments so my rise from slumber is gradual. As I strive to arrive at work by 7:45 AM, I have to start ‘waking up’ at an ungodly hour. Then I have a few more alarms set so I know how much time is passing between the normal activities that are involved in getting ready to leave my home. How crazy is that?! I do not move as colossally slowly as I did back then, but nobody is going to award me the gold medal of speediness any time soon! The rest of my day is not stridently organized like my morning practice, but I seem to need this particular regimented schedule at the beginning of the day in order for me to arrive at work on time.
I am also better at focusing on the task at hand. It is not often that I find myself on my bedroom or bathroom floor when I am prepping to go out, unable to account for the past 45 minutes. It still might take me longer to organize myself for an outing, but I am now able to concentrate and propel myself forward towards my destination.
To me, the hardest part of being perpetually late, was in having people believe that I thought my time was more important than theirs, so it didn’t matter when I arrived. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Instead, I was acutely aware of how important the people in my life were, and how worthless I was. I didn’t feel like I deserved to be with them, so it was hard to get myself there. The fact that I showed up at all is an amazing feat in and of itself.
The most pertinent lesson I learned about time is telling. It is a message that I have only embraced within this past year. So much time has gone by, frittered away in a kaleidoscope of lost and lonely years. But I now know one thing for sure; the passage of time has taught me that Time itself is too precious a commodity for me not to be accountable for it, in all of my waking moments.