Time

Time. Time is something that stresses me out. All clocks in my house are covered. My phone is set to a purposefully random and incorrect time. When I walk around town, I lower my head when I know a clock is nearby. I just don’t like to know the time. Various people have asked me what it is about time that causes me to panic, and I never quite know what to say. It’s a mixture. Sometimes it’s because I fear the sense of too much time (meaning that there are still so many hours, minutes, etc. to fill before something enjoyable happens). Other times, it’s the fear of not having enough of it. I worry that too much of the day has passed; that I didn’t accomplish everything that I wanted to. Most times, however, it has to do with a very obsessive compulsive way of thinking. By this I mean that I feel stressed, anxious, panicked, or upset, about time in general.  If I eat at a certain time, and I know that time, I feel that that is how it must be from now on. It brings about more OCD thoughts, more ticks, and a general feeling of anxiety. This might stem from when I was younger, and knew how to read clocks that weren’t digital. When I was in the fourth grade, I sat near a boy who did not know how to do this. We both shared a great dislike for certain subjects, and it was up to me to keep a record and fill him in on just how much time we had left until the next bell. Time didn’t worry me then.

I had a bedtime until I was well into my teen years, and I would always be watching the clock, hoping that maybe I could squeeze a few more minutes in before being told to go to bed. This rarely worked, but I tried.  To me it almost felt like I could WILL the clock to pass the time slower as it approached nine o’clock. It doesn’t work. Trust me.

My time issues began a few years ago. I looked forward to a certain time of day, and I was actually finding myself depressed if I looked at a clock and found that I still had several more hours to go.  Over the past year, my family (being as accepting, loving, and supportive as they are) started covering up obvious clocks, such as the one on our stove. It’s only covered by a dish cloth, so they can easily see it themselves at their wish, but it helps me block it out. My anxiety regarding time has gradually improved a bit, to where I can now, depending on my mood and what I’m doing, look at the time and not really care. This is wonderful. It’s nice to not live in fear of seeing a clock at random and going into panic mode.

You might be asking yourself why I am telling you all this, or even Why is she wasting my time? Because, my dear ones, I have just spent over fifteen minutes writing this. It was a challenge. A challenge that I was determined to conquer: To sit and do nothing but write for fifteen minutes. I didn't know what to write about, so I wrote what was on my mind: Time.