It should not be surprising that I find time is moving faster every day. People start believing (secretly) time is moving fast shortly after they hit 30. After 40 they will admit it. At 50 they will fear it. At 60 … well, 60 is still pretty new to me, but I’d say this is where I stop giving a damn about how fast time is going and instead notice how little time is left.
And no, it’s not the same thing.
I have rushed all my life. Growing up I would rush through building models, rush through chores (ok, no surprise here), rush through homework (again no surprise), even rush through gift opening, cake eating… I just rushed. I suppose I owe part of that to always being on my guard and ready to run lest my brother and his friends walked in. My only sanctum was my bedroom with my dresser slid in front of it. Then if the door was opened, the dresser would hit the end of my bed and stop opening. I shake now just remembering it…
Back to rushing. Regardless of what may have started it, I rush through life now to get to the part where I’m home alone and no one contacts me. The only sounds being the tv/radio, my computer, or the dog if he wants out. Whether tv, radio, and/or computer, any one is capable of providing a doorway into a realm outside of mere man’s existence. A place where I am alone with my thoughts (not always the best place to be) and my God (most often the best place to be). As long as I can disconnect from reality, I’ll be fine.
If my entire being was into rushing I suppose it wouldn’t be as bad as it is however I also have a part of me that procrastinates EVERYthing. Dishes – put it off. Laundry – not necessary (yet). Meds? They can wait (and hopefully I might forget them altogether) Walking the dog? ok, no getting around that one. And actually no rushing it much either. Until he’s finished doing everything he feels he needs to do, I might as well not exist. Narcissistic animal. (lol)
Last night was one of those nights where I truly wished I could rush time. Haven’t had that bad a night in a long time. Dunno, maybe I was over-due. Unfortunately this is another place where I can’t rush. Rushing just accentuates being out of control, which pushes panic up the scale one or three notches, so I need to relax which rather negates the rushing idea as a whole. I will admit I do an awesome job of rushing INTO a panic session. All I need is the right trigger, a word, sound, scene, thought, breath … you get the idea.
Even now I rush to get this posted and am taking longer because I have to keep correcting errors.
One place I really, truly, absolutely would LOVE being able to take time with would be chapters of a book. I mean, reading fast is ok — have to repeat once in a while to pick up some lost stuff, but usually can rush through reading without much of an issue. The problem comes in writing. I know how the chapter begins, and where I want it to end so gotta get there ASAP. Which I’m sure ruins reading it completely. But then, I don’t expect any lame story I write to go anywhere. Except the recycle/trash bin at that point in time where I decide it was a bad decision to write and that my writing isn’t worth taking the time with anyhoo. So with shorter chapters, maybe someone will be able to read three or five before giving up on the story. Some read is better than no read, I guess.
I don’t know if there’s a “fix” to all this rushing. I’m not even sure I want one. (remember, I’m over 60 now so rushing is just a part of life)
Anyhoo, I think I’ve written enough to constitute a post and I can cut this short and post it. (‘cut this short’ = ‘hurry through’)
Have a peaceful, RESTFUL, enjoyable day.