Slipping Through My Fingers

Time is one of the most anxiety inducing topics of conversation for me.

Right next to climate change, the economy, and the existential questions of the afterlife.

In fact I get so anxious about these topics, that I was determined to find answers to these sort of existential dilemmas by getting my bachelors in Theology and Religious studies, which also required quite a bit of philosophy courses that involved heavy readings and complex writing. Now, there is a piece of me that deeply loves these questions, but sometimes I think about them too long, or too hard and I end up reacting in ways that are unproductive and counterproductive to healthy living, both physically and emotionally. 

For example, when one watches the hit 2021 film  “Don't Look Up” with Jennifer Lawrence and Leonardo DiCaprio, It is understandable to feel a sense of urgency; a need to better understand the climate crisis, media consumption and scientific research involving the health of our neighbors, as all three have significantly impacted our lives, most noticeably in the last 5 years. 

A not normal reaction is to cry hysterically for a few hours as you convince your life will be cut short. That you will eventually suffer the same fate as Jen and Leo, or worse, you will live in a  post-apocalyptic world, like the characters of Mad Max, suffering societal collapse because you didn’t recycle and don't use public transit. 

 This tends to be the way my mind reacts to these issues more often than not. 

And although those are more “COVID era” specific anxieties, Time, defined as the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole, has always been a cornerstone in which my anxiety lies upon. 

On my last day of fifth grade, and as a very forward thinking nine year old I couldn’t help but realize that I was already nine. No one else could believe it either because every time one of my moms friends was in town they would say something like 

 “You're 9?! Oh my goodness, it seems like just yesterday you were a baby! Where does all the time go?” 

Then they would talk with my mom about all the things that had happened in the years since the last time they saw each other in person. Marriages, divorces, people getting sick, people in remission, new babies, and graduations and adventures and promotions, and retirements. I realized that there was always so much that they had to talk about, even more than time would allow for in a single meet up, but at the same time they would always talk about how fast time was.

While my mom continued chatting, I would fixate on the question  “Where does the time go?” and I questioned the duality, relativity, static and dynamic theories of time. And in my young, “black and white” programmed brain, I recognized that, if the first nine years of my life have gone by this fast, then the next nine would go by even faster, and the next faster than that.

 And I didn’t remember most of those moments in my first nine years, and I could recognize  that most people don't remember all the moments and memories of 9 years worth of living, especially in childhood.

 But I wanted to remember it ALL, and I still do.

 I wanted to hold on to every interaction, and moments I spent laughing with my friends, or all the paintings I made in  art class, or the kind words of my favorite teachers, and moments singing with my Grandma, and all the slumber and birthday parties. I just wanted to white-knuckle everything good, because I loved those moments so so so much! 

I would go home and lay in my bed sobbing, gasping between breaths, trying to explain how I wanted to stay in 5th grade. I liked 5th grade. I liked my friends, my teacher and the elementary building, and I really loved recess, but after summer, in my brain, everything would be different. I’d have a different teacher, a new class, in a new building with a new schedule, witn no jungle gym. 

The last day of fifth grade is my first memory of what anxiety was.

For the first time, I realized that time is fleeting, and somehow you get less of it as you get older.

(which is a very terrifying concept for someone who just learned how to add fractions.) 

Now, I am 22.  24. 

I still wrestle with the relativity, duality, static and dynamic theories of time, and what that means. 

I am able to look back and recognize a consistent fear of change and need for control from nine years old to now. I see and feel this in many seasons throughout my life but, none have been as consistent or intense as the present.

Time has seemed to speed up in the last year and a half. 

One of the ways my brain injury has affected me has been through my concept of time. 

Usually people don't quite understand how exactly this integrates itself into my life. For example, usually people say something like “I always forget what day of the week it is!”.

And although we may have this in common,  I usually just think it's a Tuesday, rather than a Thursday. But I think it's Tuesday December 5th when it's actually Tuesday December 19th.

Or I might think it's late October rather than Mid November and so on. 

My brain struggles to grasp how much time passes throughout the day, sometimes I think its noon when it's 9:30 am, or I think it's 9:00 pm when it's actually 5 pm. I don't know if it's been 15 minutes or 45 minutes of a conversation. So when I decided to go into therapy, I was always so worried time was going faster or slower than it really was. My eyes would scan the room looking for a sort of clock to help ground my fear of a sudden abrupt end to our much needed weekly sessions. Sure enough the session would end and I would be unable to remember what we talked about, leaving me with another week to try and stay above water on my own.

When I grab a drink with a friend, I am trying to gauge how much more time I will get to spend with them, catching up on work, life, relationships, life events and enjoying their companionship. Or I start talking and think I have been talking too much, for too long because I forget why I started talking in the first place, or how long it's been since I started talking, til I eventually resort to the standard Midwest small talk, or blending into the background at social events. 

Soon enough one of us has to go back to work, go home to let a pet out, or some sort of responsibility that leaves us scheduling a new date to see each other months in advance. 

I am starting to find ways to live a healthy life in this new brain and working really hard to do so. 

But I just think the hardest part about becoming an adult is that time gets lost a lot easier. But not lost because you're having fun (although this happens every now and again). But lost because you really don't know where it's going. 

At least I don’t anyways.

 And I am spending too much time looking for it. 

Although I am  23, 24, I find myself in the same spot as a freshly graduated elementary schooler. 

Now, I am getting married, soon I'll graduate from grad school, then I'll get a 9-5,  then kids, a home, and the rest of life.

It just moves so fast, life and time, and it's only getting faster and there's so many things I don't want to forget and it all gets very overwhelming if I think about it too long. 

So I'm trying really hard to not do that. 

Instead I am trying to remind my nine year old self that the changes of your world do feel like a bit like a tragic endings, but it will feel like that after your first break up, or when your best friend moves away, or when Grandma gets sick,  or when you fail that exam, when you move to college, or get your first job, or your next job or after the accident, or when you don’t get better. 

I’ve learned a lot since 5th grade. I’ve learned that no matter how hard we try there are certain things that human hands are just too small to carry. That even the strongest of brains, cannot recall every beautiful person and moment they have the pleasure of experiencing.  And not even the largest of hearts can hold fast to every magnificent emotion and moment that is given to them. And not even grown ups can’t stop or slow down time, no matter how badly we wish we could. 

But for now I’m just trying really hard not to think about it for too long.