Time is what we need it to be

Right as I thought everything was finally falling into place, I looked at my watch to see if I was still on track. I had things to do and cookies to bake for Santa.

"10:33"

Huh. That's weird. I could have sworn it was later than that.

I shrugged off the feeling and opened my computer again. The first thing on my list was to write a story that sums up this past year.

I also still had 8,000 photos from just 2021 I needed to upload to the cloud, and a handful of articles to write before the year ended.

But finding the motivation was becoming harder and harder.

A new variant has been spreading like wildfire and we had to make the hard decision to skip our annual Christmas Eve party at the in-laws again this year.

I could have thrown in the towel, given up. The world would have understood. There are only 10 days left. And it's been another hard year.

Call it a year, wrap it up, put it under the mistletoe. No...that doesn't make sense...

As I dragged and dropped a thousand photos at a time, I stared at the blank page the next tab over. Waiting for me to write something. Anything.

My fingers begged for my brain to come up with something. ANYTHING.

My brain, in turn, raced through its reserves but came up empty-handed.

Is this writer's block?

I don't like this feeling. It's heavy and it hurts.

I guess I should consider myself lucky for not having experienced this before now. But I still don't like it. I pride myself on being able to look at a blank page and just start writing.

I may not know where the story I build will go, but I am proud of my ability to write the story that needed to be written without fail.

As the seconds ticked by, I was failing.

Formulating a sentence right now felt like my fingers were dodging a thousand sharp daggers lodged between the keys on the board.

Looking back at my Fitbit, it still read 10:33.

I pressed the buttons to see if it was frozen and it wasn't. I could start the timer just fine so it clearly wasn't dead or it would have just simply shut off.

"Mom, my Fitbit isn't working," I heard the 9-year-old as she found me in the living room.

"Ok bring it here," I told her, keeping in mind that my Fitbit was also not working right.

As I took her Fitbit, I pressed a button to wake it up.

"10:33"

"Huh, that's weird," I commented.

"What's weird?" the 9-year-old asked anxiously.

Whoops.

"Oh nothin," I replied, trying to not exacerbate her anxiety. "Both our watches say 10:33. What does your tablet say?"

"Oh," she said, looking at the tablet she brought with her. "10:33. Why?" She wanted to know the answer. For her - time is numbers. And numbers are logical. And logical is black and white and predictable.

"I am not sure. I wonder what time it actually is, maybe we can manually update our watches," I told her, hoping a possible solution would lower her increasing anxiety.

Before trying to figure out how to manually reset an automatic electronic, we looked at the clock on my computer I had open in front of me: "10:33"

Without skipping another beat, I turned on the TV and checked the menu: "10:33"

We looked at each other and we had the same question. What the heck?

"Let's go to Papa's and check their wall clock. It's an old analog so it should be working just fine," I told her shyly. I didn't know what was going on, but I sure as heck didn't want to give her any anxious worries for her to feed off of.

We put our shoes on and grabbed our coats. It wasn't raining but it was cold. Supposedly there is snow in the forecast, but as Oregonians - we know better. We will believe it when we see it.

Papa's house was just next door so it took not even 30 seconds to realize that their analog wall clock was also not working.

I had to think fast to ward off a full panic attack from the 9-year-old.

"I am not sure what is happening. There is probably just a glitch. Since you can still play Minecraft - go back home and we can check later," I hoped this would appease her for the time being. And thankfully it did.

I have never seen all clocks just stop working. And I didn't have a solution.

Heck, I didn't even know why time it was. I assumed somewhere around noon because the winter sun was halfway to the Western horizon.

As the 9-year-old ran back home, I headed back to my computer.

Did I cause it? I probably did. I finally felt like everything was falling into place and my future was finally coming together. And then poof!

Will it forever be 10:33? Nothing else seemed to stop. The clouds were still moving, the cats still meowing to escape, the dogs still needed to be run, and my stories still needed to be written.

Ugh. I don't have time to stop and catastrophize why time has suddenly stopped or philosophize about how time is just a number and yet there is never enough of it. 

Opening my laptop again, I stared at the blank page that was burning a hole in my soul.

Pressing the shift button over and over as if I was capitalizing the first word of the first sentence to be written, the sticky keys notification popped up, reminding me I still hadn't written a single letter.

Out of habit - I looked at the time at the lower right-hand corner, hoping bedtime was creeping closer.

"10:33"

Oh yeah...

What happens after time ends? Fine fine FINE!

I shut my laptop and grabbed my phone. Not surprised the time said 10:33 there too.

I opened my journaling app. And I did what I do best - overthink why the clocks aren't working.

Clearly, they stopped because I finally figured out who I am. It took me till my mid 30's, but now that I am here - silly me for thinking that life would get better from here.

Nope. The universe just loves to laugh at me. Last time the universe laughed - my bank account was overdrafted and my checking account closed.

This time - time has ended. Or just froze?

Wait, did I take a nap and now I am stuck in a Disney special of Christmas past, present, and future?

Do I have to escape to unfreeze time?

Nah.

Overthinking is my middle name and overthinker is my game. Or is it overthinker is my middle name, overthinking is my game? Eh, oh well.

But it never ceases to amaze me that when I finally make sense of my world, the world throws me a wrench.

Maybe there was a solar flare that took out time.

How do you exist in a world without time? Time hasn't been around forever. But living without time gives me as much anxiety as forgetting my phone at home does.

Everything we do is dictated by time.

When we wake up, when we go to work, lunchtime, nap time, daytime, nighttime.

We are either on time, early, or late.

I remember laughing when I first met my husband 16 years ago and went to my very first Native American Pow-Wow. He had to teach me Indian Time.

Being the rule follower I am, I start panicking at the remote possibility of arriving less than 10 minutes early to, well, anything.

So when I learned about Indian Time, I laughed. I couldn't imagine a world where things happen when they happen.

When we are told that Christmas Eve dinner at my in-laws is at 5pm - we know it will be closer to 6 or 7pm that we will eat, so might as well grab a late lunch on the way.

As I started reminiscing about my past with time, it occurred to me that at some point during the Pandemic, I mentally embraced Indian Time while physically still holding on to the heartbeat of the clock on my wrist...and on my phone...and on my computer...

Our ancestors rose with the sun and laid down with the moon. When the day reached its hottest - they found shade and took a break.

Their stomachs ruled meal times, and not the other way around.

Could the end of time heal our Earth?

Nah....that's a stretch.

Putting my phone down to stop from spiraling, I couldn't help but come back to the present moment.

The present moment where I finally feel like I have arrived at something I had been working towards for almost a decade.

As my friends and family all figured out their purposes, their missions in this life, their reasons for living...I was on the sideline cheering them on.

Genuinely happy for them because that's who I am. But I'd be lying if I didn't feel alone and in last place.

I know, I know. Life isn't a race.

But over the last four years, I had never been more depressed.

The political environment didn't help. But I am referring to not knowing who I was or why I was even here.

Based on chronological time, I was late.

I was late to the "what do I want to do, who do I want to be, when I grow up" party.

I was late to the "career, not just a job" phase.

The only thing I was early too, was getting my period at 9-years-old. And nearly every appointment for the past 20 years.

Peeking at the clock to see if it started counting again, I was thankful I didn't get my hopes up.

"10:33"

Screw it. Just because the clocks have stopped, doesn't mean I stop.

I may be struggling right now to find the words, but this is only temporary.

The words will come when the words come. Maybe at 11pm. Maybe at 3am. But I trust they will come.

Just like I trust that the days will continue even if all the clocks in the world stop ticking.

I opened my laptop again and went to that blank page.

When time stood still, I came alive.

I wrote the first sentence, not knowing the next.

In the silence of the extinct ticks, I listened to my gut.

I wrote the second sentence, not knowing where I was headed.

My fingers typed slower than the words started forming on my tongue.

As I reached the final couple of sentences, a sense of relief washed over me.

As the clock on the wall freezes, I finally understand.

I am where I am supposed to be on my journey - at just the right time. Not a moment too early. Not a second too late.

At the end of the day, time is what we need it to be. Therefore, I am not late. I never was.

Sure, following my dreams is taking a little longer than I expected.

But had I sped through, I would have missed the love my kids have for one another. I would have missed the fog lift from the wetlands just past our front yard as a double rainbow emerged. I would have missed the moment my girls learned how to cannonball into the pool and demanded I let them do it over and over and over...

Maybe watching the clock so closely, is holding me back.

Lifting my fingers from the blank page now full of words, I almost closed my laptop when a sudden urge made me look at the clock in the lower right-hand corner.

"10:34"