Time. The system of those sequential relations that any event has to any other, as past, present, or future; indefinite and continuous duration regarded as that in which events succeed one another. Well, according to dictionary.com that is. My definition? Time is a blessing and a curse, but lately it’s been a pain in my ass.
There’s one month until Christmas. Your final presentation has to be fifteen minutes long. You should sleep for 8 hours a night. You’re going to be 21 years old soon! Graduation is only one semester away. You have the rest of your life ahead of you. This bill needs to be paid on the 16th of every month. You should have kids before you’re 30. That couple just celebrated their 8th wedding anniversary.
Time is literally in every aspect of our lives, but how we view it differs. Lately mine has been dreadful rather than enlightening. It’s been one year and two months since you left. I really shouldn’t sleep for 10 hours today. I only have to put a smile on for a few hours and then it’ll be over. It’s only the first day of the week and I’m already drowning. That’s the third cry you’ve had today.
Time is not my friend. Everyone else has gone back to normal time. They’re excited for the holiday season. They’re rushing to buy gifts before the last minute. They’re planning their trips, writing out their grocery lists, and figuring out which family members will sleep where. Me? I just want it to be over.
I’m tired of not being able to get out of bed to sit through an hour class. I’m tired of feeling completely overwhelmed by completing one simple task like washing the dishes or taking a shower. I’m tired of dreading going into work for a 6 hour shift because I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep it together. I’m tired of memories slipping away because it’s been so long and I can’t think straight.
I judge myself harshly when it comes to time. Why can’t I get up at 7:00 and go work out for 30 minutes like I should? Why can’t I stop counting each day that passes without my mom being here? Why do I constantly look at the clock to figure out how much longer until I can be back in my bed again? Why can’t time just stop for a second so I can catch my breath and think?
One minute I’m okay. Life is good. Happy things are taking place. Then one more minute passes and I’m not okay. I see that little girl hold her mom’s hand. I see that daughter buy her mother a birthday present. I hear that teenager talk about how his mom won’t let him stay out past 10:00. And all of a sudden, a million things flood my mind and tears flood my eyes.
I am never going to be the same person, no matter how many years ahead of me I still have. I am never going to be completely okay, no matter how many months have passed since my mom died. And it’s completely irrelevant to everyone else because they don’t understand.
I can feel the judgement and the awkwardness and the uncertainty from people. I hear it in their words, see it in their faces, read it in their messages. Like I’m some sort of crazy person because I still can’t function normally. Trust me, I give myself a hard enough time about it, I don’t need you to do it too.
But there are some who gift their time to me. Listen to me. Promise to be there for me whenever I need it. But life happens. Schedules fill up. Their time is precious too. Even if they want to help, they have responsibilities. And they can’t just give it up for the girl who still can’t hold it together a year later.
God is supposed to be there all the time, day and night, weekday or weekend, rain or shine. Yet he feels the farthest. And he surely is the quietest. But he has all the time in the world. Yet here I sit feeling as alone as ever.