Where Does All the Time Go?


It’s been a long time since I last wrote a post…seven months and ten days ago to be exact.  I have a million excuses and really no excuse to why I haven’t written.  When I think back over the past seven months I feel like time just went too fast and too slow, which I realize is a very pathetic excuse.  In the past seven months I’ve gotten another year older, celebrated a bunch of holidays, drove across the country, went on a few trips, worked a lot (like more than you should and definitely more than I get paid for), ran a little (like a really pathetic amount), was the cause of an accident that hurt our pup Coaly (resulting in an unexpected trip to the Emergency Vet for a minor surgery), and had two surgeries myself.

While time was flying by it was also going extremely slowly.  Every day flew by and I couldn’t get enough work done in a day and by the time I got home in the evening I was so tired I could barely stay awake and would slink off to bed before 9pm every night.  At first I had no idea why I felt this way – I thought it was just being in your upper thirties and working a lot.  Turns out it was partly due to the tumor growing on my parathyroid and a disease I had never heard of before in my life called primary hyperparathyroidism.  The only cure being a parathyroidectomy (also known as cutting open your throat and ripping out the tumor).  The time surrounding all the medical stuff went extremely slow.  Slow as I was waiting for medical results, waiting for medical tests (and more medical tests), and finally waiting for my surgery in January. I will write soon about my surgery and recovery (and my tumor we affectionately referred to as Lester), but today I am focusing on time.  But, still, in the slowness, everything else was whizzing by me a warp speed.

I will admit that since my surgery my sense of time has been slightly better.  My days are significantly longer now that I’m not going to bed before 9pm, but they still are flying by and I’m still not feeling like I am accomplishing anything.  I just keep adding to my never-ending to-do list and feeling like I’m never going to catch-up.  Days will pass and I will realize that I haven’t returned a text to a friend I meant to do days ago, that I haven’t checked anything off my to-do list but instead added eight more items, and that the laundry I started earlier in the week is still in the dryer.  Where does the time go?  I think it would feel different if the time was flying by and I was being productive as all get out, but it just doesn’t feel like that.  There is so much I want to accomplish but I never feel like I am moving towards anything.  I feel like I’m running in place as fast as I can just so I don’t fly off the back of the treadmill of life.

A couple of minutes ago my husband asked what I was writing about, the truth is I really have no idea.  I am just hoping the act of starting to write will lead to me continuing to write and in turn start the momentum of moving towards something again.

How is time passing for you?  Are you in the camp of too fast?  Too slow? Just right?  If the answer is just right, please share your advice!


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