The Trouble with Time
Somehow I blinked and it’s almost the middle of July. It’s Monday morning, I’m drinking my coffee, opening up my laptop to start working after the weekend, and I can count down the rest of our summer by events that are scheduled. Go here, meet this person, do this. Summer has turned into this epic laundry list of chores, tasks and things that take up every waking moment of my conciousness.
I keep thinking of this quote from a TV show that said “Life is short. And long. Life is short and long.” It was meant to be an awkward, fumbling moment featuring the main character, but it also sums up the truest thing I know about life. It’s short, and long. And not even in a the days are long but the years are short kind of way. In a way that nothing is guarenteed, everything can change in an instant. The trouble is we think we have time to do all the things we want to do someday, but one day the someday never comes. It just ends. Life is a list of chores and tasks until life just isn’t anymore. And in the same breath, as someone who has tried dying, one of the most comforting things I find myself saying is “yes, life is short but I still have time.” There is still time for me to do the things I want to do, to be better, to accomplish and succeed and adjust course.
Author Emily Rapp, when writing about the death of her son Ronan from Tay Sachs, said she found the most comfort in reading stories from other families with children who had died, not from the families that spent their days in Disney but the ones who spent them on the couch. It’s exhausting to make every moment meaningful. I also feel this to be profoundly true. I am very aware I exist on borrowed time, but also I find it strangely blissful to lose myself thinking about things like mortages and whether or not I’ll make my assignment deadline in my career. The bigger picture and the everyday moments exist simultaneously, both together and seperate.
It’s almost the middle of July and in a few weeks I’ll be heading back to my transplant center, in just under a month rounding the bend of 2 years post transplant, with an entire lifetime ahead of me. Life is short and life is long, and I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how quickly it can all change and what I want to do with the time I have left. I’m also at the stage of life lovingly coined the quarter life crisis (quarter life assuming one lives to 100) and while people are getting married and having babies and giant careers, I find great comfort in reading the stories of people who sat on the couch.
I would say I’m more aware than the average 25 year old of what I want in life and how to make it happen. I have a keen awareness of time isn’t guarenteed, and there isn’t time to waste doing things I don’t love. Big picture things and every day things.
When I was a teenager I had a blog and I overshared on the internet, probably to the point that if I went back and read it now I’d be slightly humiliated. But I was honest, and even at 15 I was aware of what I wanted and knew I didn’t have time to waste getting to where I wanted to go. That blog turned into a career in social media and community management, one where my brand is quite literally my life. And if 15 year old me could see where I ended up, I’d like to think she’d be proud. Probably confused, but proud.
If you ever wanted insight from someone who knows what its like to be running out of time, let me tell you this: Life is short, and long. Don’t waste a single minute doing things you don’t love, or that won’t get you closer to where you want to be (Its such a parent line that sometimes you have to do things you hate to get to where you can do things you love, but take it from me: don’t spend too much time on the things you hate. Just pass through, eyes on the goal). Romanticize the every day, little moments sitting on the couch. Be where you are and never stop dreaming of where you want to go. Life is short, but you have time. Make it count for something.
