So I was talking to a friend yesterday or today (seriously, the days just run together anymore). And I was telling that friend about this little side project of mine; this thing that I occasionally do, when the mood strikes, and the stars are aligned, and the cards tell me it’s time. I mentioned to this friend that it had been a while since I had posted, because I just didn’t have the time.
And as I uttered that phrase, I had this internal moment where my inner voice yelled “are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”
Because let’s be -r e a l- here- I have a part time job, where I work at most 30 hours a week. I don’t have any kids. My apartment isn’t so big that I spend every waking moment cleaning it out of necessity. I have zero social life, because I haven’t made any friends here yet. And to top it off, most nights, I get maybe (if I’m lucky) four hours of sleep.
So that got me to thinking about time, and my time, and how I prioritize this precious thing. It got me to think about the things that I have on some level invested myself in. And let me assure you, this has been at best a learning experience and at worst a humiliation lesson in humble.
For example. Since I have moved, I have taken up this really incredible hobby of watercolor painting. And it is no stretch to say that I’m kinda good at it. And for a hot moment, as I was getting messages from people about doing commissioned pieces, that I thought that this is something that I could maybe actually make money on. So I took the steps necessary to turn this hobby into income. That drive lasted all of maybe a couple of weeks. Because those steps are so exhausting, and really, it’s just so much easier to come home from my easy job and just lay down and stare at the wall.
I go 100%, full speed, all engines fired with every single thing that catches my eye, until I have worn myself down to exhaustion from my manic excitement. And then from there, my time just s l i p s away, and the moments, minutes, hours, days just bleed into each other, until I lift my head, unable to recall what day of the week it is.
Time is funny like that. When you get so immersed in a project, task, chore- And then when you come up for air, without knowing what day it is, or how long you’ve been at “it”, whatever that may be. Except that my project, task, chore is just existing. Which may in all likelihood be a symptom of depression that is no longer manageable, but that’s a story for another time.
Sorry, this is going a little all over the place. I get that, and I’m trying to regain a little control, so bear with me.
So what time is it? That’s something I have to ask myself. And the answer isn’t as simple as 11:13p on a Friday night. Because I am at a really odd and interesting place in my life. In the last year, I have entered a very new season, and things just aren’t working the way that they did last season. No, the time right now is such that I have a lot of shit that I need to remove from my space. The time right now is such that I need to take inventory of what’s missing from my sense of “tribe”, and figure out how to get that. The time right now is such that I need to take a moment, center myself, and figure out which direction I’m going, and which direction I want (and need) to go.
I recognize that I’m not getting younger. My best days are probably behind me, and all that that means is that if I want to keep up with something, I have to force that thing into my life. While there is definitely a challenge to that, I know that with some initial hard-hitting effort, I can get back to the place I was a year ago, figuratively speaking.
Rather than losing my time, in the hustle and bustle of mental emptiness (really, I have no idea how to describe it), I have to force myself with the consistent drive of passion and excitement to do the things that I like doing.
Which is a funny way to look at it, I’d say. And with that, I just have to gently remind myself “what time is it”, because as long as that’s at the front and center, then there’s hope that I can regain and reclaim some of that ground I have lost.