Time Out
Wasted time is often where we hide.
There's no way to calculate how much time you get on this planet, but you only get to spend each moment once.
Time is slippery. How many minutes did you spend doomsday scrolling or looking at inconsequential things on your phone this week? Chances are a lot. Don't fold in on yourself with feelings of guilt or frustration. Interrogate your heart. Get curious about why you choose to spend your time how you do. Be ruthlessly honest with yourself.
What are you running from?
What don't you have to think about or feel when you're sucked in by mind-numbing distraction?
Wasted time is often where we hide.
A question I sometimes like to let hang in the air long enough to haunt someone is, "If you could pay any price to buy back a single moment in your life what would it be?" It's a visceral query. The prompt can elicit pangs of sadness, grief, shame, or regret. It can spark sweet joy or deep gratitude. When I pose this question, the kinds of memories that break through the protective barrier of people's consciousness vary. What's your answer? A conversation you'd want to do differently? A moment to savor twice? Maybe you wish you could have a second pass through time to let yourself settle more fully into the present—an opportunity to enjoy something that you were distracted but missed. Reactions to this question point to something important, something to pay attention to. Inside your response might be something you should reconsider or more intentionally prioritize.
If I could purchase a piece of my history, I'd buy one more chance to sit in a NICU rocking chair so I could hold my two tiny three-pound babies one more time. Any parent who has clocked time in NICU understands the traumatized, nearly robotic haze you are in when your child's life starts in that part of the hospital. For a time, you exist in a surreal twilight zone while you’re surrounded by beeps, cords, and tiny baby screeches.
Rocking in a wooden chair between two plastic boxes holding my brand new babies. That's my moment. Thinking about it used to make me want to vomit. I know I held, loved, sang, read, snuggled, and smiled. It happened day and night for two months. I just can hardly remember any of it. I hate that. It's hard to relish and hold on to things when you're in survival mode. Now I can look back at that chapter with much more grace and self-compassion. My body and brain just been through a lot. I was dangerously sleep-deprived, pumping every 75 minutes around the clock. My body, brain, and heart were there. But was I present?
As it turns out, the (sometimes unhelpful, almost always ill-timed) thing people say to new mothers is true: Babies don't keep. So, I'd buy a chance to go back if I could. But I can't. Instead, I take the lesson inside my answer and bring increased intention to soaking in the sweet stuff now. Because that's all I've got. It's all any of us have, really. I savor today what I know won't be there waiting for me tomorrow. I've got one shot. Someday my kids won't ask me to rock them to sleep anymore, so I never say no.
When we look back on our lives, our regrets won't be about our money. Maybe some will be about our words. Things we didn't have the courage to do. Most of all, I think late-stage existential remorse tends to be about time. With that in mind, think about what you can do to be more intentional with yours.
Time poverty is real, but we participate in it. People constantly complain (brag?) about not having enough time. Too often, we are starved for space, but we don't have the boldness to create and protect it. Be less scared to say "no." Don't let things that won't matter in ten years (ten months, or ten weeks) repeatedly crowd out who and what will.
A new daily planner probably won’t provide a true fix for your time management problems. You need to start with introspection instead. If squandering your precious time is a pattern, step back and examine why this is happening. Saying "I just need to do better" is seldom the solution if you aren't clear about what is causing a behavior. If you want time on your side, don't forget to be careful with its close cousin—attention. Think about how you can make yours less fractured. True fixes for time management
There's no unwinding your choices about time. They will live and die with you. Steward well the moments you're given—you don't get to buy a single one back.
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If you’re interested in strategies for managing stress, sharpening your interpersonal skills, and increasing self-awareness, don’t miss Finding Joy:
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