“The trouble is, you think you have time,” a statement that rings in my head often. Sometimes it haunts me. My only child turns 18 later this week. How can I be the mother of an almost-adult? I’m only in my thirties; well that’s not entirely truthful but it is how I feel.
Wasting time. I lie in bed scrolling in the morning, not social media as much as I used to, but eliminating phone notifications, updating apps, checking my calendar, bank account. Hello OCD. Sometimes I make good use of the time by texting friends or reading a book. Still, I definitely waste time. And I get mad at myself for it. I should be up. I should be writing.
There are many things I want to achieve in this lifetime. Not being judicious with my time, I slip a little further behind.
The sincere drive of wanting to achieve also causes angst. It causes me to be short or ignore others. I’ve done it to my husband more than once. Working on personal projects this weekend, writing, J does a great job of entertaining himself. We are here, together, but in two separate places. He checks in with me. It’s kind, considerate. As he drove up on the golf cart yesterday, I was on the front deck tapping away at the keyboard. I barely looked up. If he’d behaved that way toward me, I’d be hurt. My strong internal drive to achieve and my relationship to time, namely the lack of it, cause rudeness.
If yoga has taught me to be in the now (and it has, I’m better than I used to be), why do I still fight with my relationship to time? How do I reconcile the two? This is my pondering today.
Deep breaths. Soft shoulders. Turning the corners of my lips upward, I feel thankful for this moment. THIS. This is all I can control right now. Maybe that’s the lesson. One breath. One moment. One day at a time.