Time

What is time? It all used to feel so ordered, so sure, so unchangeable, so controlled and predictable. Now, time is like bits and pieces floating through the air that I can't catch or capture. It's like it has it's own personality. One that teases and taunts me. The other day while preparing information for taxes, I wrote down the year as 1996. Then a few days later while I was taking notes during a class, I titled the page with the year 2004. I actually didn't notice either error until I went back to review once I had finished. I then had to consider what was wrong with the date, because I knew something about it wasn't right, but it wasn't immediately obvious to me. Intellectually, the year seemed wrong. But it took some effort to poll my conscious brain and figure it out. Here's the kicker. My Mom died in 1996 and my husband died in 2004. Even after I realized I had made the errors, it still felt completely normal to write those years. Like it really was the right date. Not like it feels when you write the wrong date, know it immediately and shrug it off to making a mistake - one that everyone does every once in awhile. This was different. A shrink would have a field day with that one. My body and intellectual mind are living in 2007 but some days my spirit is somewhere back in time.

I also used to remember details of my life, my husband's life, my friend's lives, my family's lives. You name it, I prided myself on remembering so many things that were important to me and other's. Now when people ask me how my week-end was, or how my week is going, I hesitate. Because I don't keep track of the days the way I used to. I also have to stop and think about what I've been doing and who I've seen. Even then, I can't always call up the info. I joke and others joke that it's probably an age thing now that I'm creeping up on my mid 40's. But I know it's really about the trauma I've been through and that I don't measure time in the same routine ways anymore. I also don't live in the future the way I used to. If someone were to ask me what my plans for the future are, my answer would be, "I have no idea I don't really care to put my energy into figuring that kind of stuff out anymore". I know it's not a socially acceptable answer but it just isn't how I think or live my life anymore.

I remember in the early days wondering how the earth could still be spinning. How the sun could be rising and setting. How the calendar page could keep turning. Everything about my world had stopped but there was no outward sign that it had. I have adjusted to this feeling and it has lessened quite a bit. But it hasn't gone away completely. Logically and intellectually I know 32.5 months have gone by in calendar time. I know I have come a very long way in those months. I have recovered, I have healed, I have adjusted. Physically, emotionally, and psychologically. But some moments, it seems as if none of that time has passed. In those moments it's like I'm living in two time zones. The one that keeps moving into the future and the one that will never move again. It's maybe because when you measure time you have some starting points from which to move outward from. I don't feel like I have any starting points anymore. Starting points require a stake in the ground and something to build upon. Launching pads to get you moving and keep you moving through time. I can't relate to that anymore. Time is a stranger to me now. I don't know it as well as I used to. Maybe it's that it used to be my friend but now it feels more like my enemy. The concept of time travel never held my interest before but it intrigues me a bit more now.

Even after writing all that, I am frustrated. I have not captured the feeling of how time is different. If I come up with anything else that might express it better, I'll let you know.