Time In A Bottle

… with the fucking air running out

So, I’m back.

I haven’t posted in 2 weeks because I haven’t had time.

Time. It’s a precious commodity. One that cannot be trifled with. Because when you trifle with time, and you think you have time to do other things and you think you have time to get shit done – you think you can put something off to do it later – time, ultimately runs out. And, if you don’t pay attention, you will get fucked. Really hard. And you will pay either with sleepless nights courtesy of a brain that refuses to shut off. Or have a barrage of people, many of whom you don’t really care to hear from, on your heels and in your ear.

Time is a sadomasochist. It doesn’t give a damn about you or me. And so, we are invariably time’s bitch.

Time only cares about its onward march.

I had a plan, and I failed my plan because I forgot to make The Plan. I was on target with my year and then I made that wretched mistake many of us do when we think we have our time management under control. We over-promise ourselves. We overextend ourselves. We neglect what our bodies tell us daily. We ignore the thanks and gratitude of a good night’s sleep thinking that we can sacrifice one or two nights for another gig.

And then I procrastinated. Because when I get too much shit piled on my plate, I shut down. All the way down.

I procrastinated and procrastination, well, everyone who reads this blog knows exactly how well I and that bitch get along.

I procrastinated and I. Got. Fucked. Up.

I am now working my way out a shit ton of stuff workwise. I am trying to keep my head up and my composure level. I am doing my best to make sure that anxiety doesn’t rear her head so my cortisol levels can stay low, but I fucked with time and now time is fucking me.

And when time fucks you, it’s with an unlubricated dildo coated in sawdust.

It hurts. It really hurts.

I had major projects to complete for work. They got done and now I’m in the cleanup phase but there’s so much left to do and I’m only one person.

I’m going to ask for help. I know enough to do that. But it’s hard to ask for help when you haven’t organized yourself to assign tasks and deal with the help properly. So that’s what I’m working on as I write this piece. I’m organizing myself. Purging all the to-do lists out of my brain and onto paper so I can categorize and construct a plan that will work practically, not theoretically.

I have some lists already written, come compartments. Things are organized to an extent but the nuances, the nitty-gritty? I haven’t paid attention to those things. I haven’t gone into intense detail because I didn’t have the time to do it in the beginning. Well, I didn’t make the time for it, and I now need to make time for the small things. Because the small things help to make the big things easier.

It’s obvious that I don’t handle stress well so why do I keep allowing myself to be placed in stressful situations? Smt.

I need to pace myself. I cannot sustain this pace. At this rate, I’m not gonna be able to keep up. But how do you pace yourself when you don’t have enough time?

Fuck!

Time and worry about the lack of time have made me not a very good sleeper.

I remember working so freaking hard to get my circadian rhythm back to normal after working night shifts for 5 years in a row. It was the ONE gift that the COVID-19 pandemic gave me – time (look at the fucking irony) to reset my clock.

But I have royally fucked that up again because I’ve gone from getting 7-8 hours of sleep, which I know my body needs because it craves it, to getting 3 or 4 hours if I’m lucky. My sleep pattern is off. Way off. It’s off because I have been failing, royally, at treasuring time.

Time waits for no man or woman. It’s not some shit you can pack away for a rainy day. It doesn’t matter who you are or how kind or nice you are. It doesn’t matter how mean or rude you are. Time doesn’t give a fuck about you or me.

She will keep moving. She will keep marching and the only thing we can do is make time for time.

At least, it’s what I have to start doing. Start my process of figuring out the nuances and embracing the smaller things so that I can make the bigger things even better. I also need to reset my boundary lines – again.

“No” used to be an easy word to say and I don’t know why I stopped saying it. But I’m gonna have to start saying it again. Keep shit simple and say, “No.”

Close out these projects and just say no. It’s the only way I’m gonna survive this thing called 2022. It’s the only way I’m gonna make time my bitch again. And I need that. I need the sleep. I need the rest. I need less anxiety, less stress, so I can accomplish what I need to accomplish. So I can just fucking live.

Time.

I’ve got to pay more attention to her so she can, in turn, at least appear to pay attention to me.

Song: Time in a Bottle
Artist: Jim Croce
Album: You Don’t Mess Around with Jim
Release Date: 1972

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1 Comment

  • Ooof….feeling this one! Major time anxiety going on. You’re right about getting it out of your head and down on paper to make a plan. Setting aside some time to do that today! Thank you for the push!

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