Time in These Times
The Astronomical Clock in Prague captures my current sense of time…
I’m struggling with time. The concept of time, the experience of the passage of time, remembering the time of day, remembering which Blursday it is – all those links with time have become a struggle.
We’ve come to the end of another really long yet curiously rapid week and I find myself wondering if I’m the only person who is experiencing time in a very different dimension at this point, a little over a year in to our constricted life of COVID.
Intellectually I know that May has just begun. If the weather isn’t clear on that, then my multiple calendars help keep me on track there. But if you ask me when it was that we all got together for that thing at the place we so enjoyed, well, anyone’s guess is better than mine.
It could have been in 2019 just before That Year. Or you could be referring to something that happened in the 1990s. Somehow That Year of 2020 has wiped out all perspective when it comes to time. Side note: I began writing this the first week of March, and that just goes to show how time is getting away from me.
I have scribbles on my calendar that note some of the calls and zooms and even an outing to a grocery store that have occurred. But without ink on paper staring me in the face, I wouldn’t be able to tell you whether those events happened yesterday, today, or a year or two ago.
What is happening to my planful self? I think I remember having a stronger grasp over time. Knowing what was supposed to happen this week and next. Knowing when it was time to schedule the dentist or a doctor’s appointment. Remembering that I hadn’t had a shower for more than a day or two. All of these actions require a grasp of time. And I think I’ve lost it.
If you know me well – or at all, I suppose – you know I’m a raging extrovert. I get my strength, my energy, from gathering with friends and colleagues for conversation and laughter. One of my favorite activities is gathering close friends plus a few new acquaintances around the full length of our extended table for a long, languishing meal punctuated with stories and jokes.
It may be that my unmet need to plug in to the energy of friends has warped my sense of time. Or it may be that time truly has warped so that these days that feel like weeks and weeks that pass as quickly as a day are part of our new normal as we become new versions of our selves.
I’ve had the opportunity for a few chats with psychiatrists in the past several weeks as part of my work at the University. There has been some media interest in how we will adapt to the world as it begins to lurch open, slowly and carefully. These psychiatry professors are professionals who have built their careers around seeking to understand the science behind our emotional and behavioral selves. And they are finding that this COVID situation is presenting whole new fields of study around the supports we’ll all need to re-establish a sense of equilibrium moving forward.
While the scientists and physicians pursue their research into what it will take to give us back our balance, I’ll continue to struggle along. Between setting timers on my watch, alarms on my phone, dings and buzzes on my computer, not to mention color markers denoting “Things to Do” on my desk top calendar, I am well-equipped to continue moving forward in pursuit of deadlines and appointments.
And maybe – just maybe – this loss of the perspective on time is less related to Our Year of Pandemic than it is to our having achieved the age of Medicare. And maybe – just maybe – as each year of life becomes a shorter percentage of all that occurred before, I’ll need to focus those color markers on a wall sized timeline to track Big Events and Doings so I don’t have to guess when we traveled with Those Friends to That Place we so enjoyed.