My relationship with time is slippery. I am often thinking about the future, reflecting and reframing the past, and, when in the present, am sort of time blind.
Time blindness, according to verywellmind.com:
Underestimating or overestimating how much time has passed, how long a task will take, or how much time is left before an anticipated event. Chronically missing deadlines or arriving late, even for things you are excited about. Difficulty making a realistic schedule or sticking to a schedule.
While this definition sounds negative (and I don’t always identify with it), there is an upside. When I am with you, I am with you. I’m not on my phone or thinking about what I need to do in 30 minutes — I’m all in. The same goes for when I am writing, reading or dancing. My time blindness allows me to be in a flow state, present and fully enthralled.
That being said, I often don’t realize how much time has passed in the big picture either. I think this is why I can easily lose touch with people or what’s going on with their lives. I didn’t mean not to call or email or visit. I just didn’t realize how much time had passed. And, even when I do, I don’t think I feel it the same way others might.
Is a year a long time? Is two?
I thought I had all the time in the world to do the things I wanted. I’d travel later. I’d write a book later. I’d move closer to my family later.
Was this procrastination? Prioritization? Both?
What couldn’t wait was work, paying the bills, feeding my cat, etc. I could put off doing the dishes, drinking with friends, going to the gym.
Work got the best of me. Even laundry would have to wait.
I’m pretty sure I was a workaholic and didn’t know it. But what is the alternative when you don’t have money or when you’re making just enough?
When I went back to school for my graduate degree, I knew something needed to change. The answer didn’t really come, though, until May 2020. I was OK with staying home, wearing a mask, wiping down my groceries, and waiting to travel. I hadn’t made any sweeping revelations about the way I wanted to live my life or what I else I would prioritize.
Then my brother died.
The spell was broken.
I’d almost visited him in Florida during winter break. I could have seen him December 2019. Or in January 2020. When it seemed like it might not work out, I let it go. I would go later. Then Later never came.
I regret not spending more time with my brother — I regret not being there. I thought this meant I needed to explode my life, move back home and spend more time with my family ASAP.
But I don’t. And that really isn’t possible anyway.
What’s possible is building a life that allows me to travel back when I want, visit my nephew as often as I can, being fully present with him, and spend time on what I want to do — even if it is just figuring out the answer to that question.
I made a mistake not visiting my brother.
That was all.
I am really enjoying your writing. This is one of my favorites. . Thank you.