Lost Time

Outside the spring snow is piling up and I've found absolutely no reason to venture out into it. It looks gorgeous with its light, fluffy flakes and clinging coating on branches. Somehow as I admire its beauty, I am also baffled at how it has come to be mid afternoon on Sunday. The answer of course is simple: lost time.

Run all you want, Goat. You won't catch up to your lost time.

Anxiety eats your time like a puppy with a shoe. Vigorous, unrelenting gnawing of your minutes and hours. Soon, you're left with nothing but shreds of material that have most likely been piddled on and belong in the rubbish bin. Will I need this; will I be able to; will I even make it to that; will that weather front incapacitate me? While it is true everyone worries, not everyone loses as much time worrying  as someone with chronic condition anxiety.

Yeah, I already told Goat that doens't work.

Anxiety then strangles sleep in its rope of what ifs. Those with chronic illnesses know the importance of a regular and generous sleep cycle. We know this mostly because everyone and everything reminds us of it, which of course makes it that much simpler. Whatever time anxiety missed during the day, it makes up for at night. Add to that the medications can cause interrupted sleep or insomnia. Furthermore there is pain like spasms or migraines that jar you out of sleep ensuring that you lose as much time as possible so that you feel like positive shit when that alarm finally goes off. Before you know it, those 7-8 hours you were looking forward to have disappeared.

Wow. The pressure is not helping.

Between anxiety and lack of sleep, you're supposed to also socialize and somehow manage not to be a hermit. You hear of a play you want to see, a band at a pub you want to listen to, or a new restaurant you want to check out, but you worry about making plans because you might have to cancel. By the time you're supposed to leave the house, you're so wiped out from worry and lack of sleep that you can't possibly drag your sorry ass out. Once again, your bitchy chronic maladies have leeched more time from you.

 Yup. They have time for a dance number, but no time for me.

Because you have a host of crotchety health concerns running amok in your body, you spend a lot of time doing research. You have to learn what information is reliable and which information sources are trash. You investigate a new med your doctor thinks you need; you check out the new condition that has been added to your laundry list of crapola; you dedicate time and energy to figuring out what you need to do so you aren't destitute from your health woes. Even a big nerd who relishes research will be run down by the herd of wildebeest that is being an informed patient.

Well, I guess that's another way of looking at it.

Because you are so informed, sleep deprived, and anxious, your saving grace is planning for every possible outcome. You can't live in the present because you're always thinking about the future. The just in cases eat time you devote to your coping strategy. You plan your wardrobe for the week so if you wake up feeling worse than when you went to sleep, you at least have clothes ready for the day that match. You leave work each day with a to-do list and a back up plan for someone else to follow because you know you may have to stay home the next day. You plan menus well ahead of time because if you come home fatigued and have to answer "What's for dinner?" you may just murder someone. Slowly. In stages. Possibly with naps in between.

Plan. Eat. Sleep.

Illnesses also snitch time from your hobbies. You can't read because your brain fog won't let you comprehend the latest Dean Koontz novel. You can't make craft items because you can't handle the light thanks to your migraine. You can't go for a bike ride because you're dizzy and too clumsy to even walk from one room to another. You might as well strap in, ride that sofa, and stream some Netflix because that's all you can do.

This cat is more productive.

Speaking of hobbies, what happens to all that free time you used to have? You used to come home and do stuff. Not now though. Sometimes it is all you can do to get through your work day and when you finally cross your threshold, you crash. You stare as the fog creeps into your cranium. You were going to do some light cleaning so you aren't overwhelmed on the weekend. You were going to work in the yard to prepare for the change of season. You were going to put away those holiday decorations that you've ignored for months. But all you can do is sit your butt down and hope you don't drool. Before you know it, it's time to do it all over again.

Your whole house should be like this.

The answer to all of these concerns is of course to manage your health and wellness. Well, that also siphons your time. You wake up with a migraine for example, so you keep lights off, move more slowly, take your med and just sit with an ice pack and breathing exercises until Oh shit! 45 minutes has passed and you still haven't showered. Good bye morning; you've spent so much time managing your condition that you now must speed up and hope that your accelerated pace does not undo all the self-care you just invested in trying to mitigate the migraine.

Fuck that shit.

At some point, you're supposed to make time for your significant other. You're supposed to enjoy a bit of intimacy now and then. You're supposed to make time for each other, but unless you have a T.A.R.D.I.S., you may just not possess any time in which to make Marvin Gaye proud with your gettin' it on. You feel lousy. You look even worse in your robe and unwashed hair. You're so tired, you might just fall asleep. As the time ticks away, the guilt builds up. Before you know it, the fornication window closes. Sigh* There's always tomorrow, right?

Timey whimey, wibbly wobbly sex would be good.

Since you're too tired to do a damn thing and you're not able to sleep, you can always daydream. Of course, that's a wholly depressing venture since the likelihood of being able to fulfill some of those dreams is perfect nonsense. Despite all the self-care, research, and management, those dreams you've added to your bucket list get farther and farther away. What once was a reverie of pleasure, now just brings pain of knowledge. Knowledge that it's really just dreams and dreams aren't real.

And this is when you really have to fight . No matter what.

Regina Spektor's title song for "Orange is the New Black" refers to how "you've got time." Well, yes. you do, but it's not quality time when you've got a chronic illness or illnesses. You spend so much energy just trying to get through your days and nights that the stream of time pulls you down with its undertow. Hopefully, that swim eventually brings you back to dry land. And a massage. A massage would be a nice way to lose some time.

 

See? Moose agrees with me about the massage.