Reflecting on time

Autumn Reflections on Lochiel Lake - © Janice Brown, 2020

Time is doing weird things these days. For me, at least. 

On the one hand, the days and weeks pass too quickly - filled as they are with chores and other activities. 

On the other, the first year of the Covid-19 pandemic feels as if it's gone on forever and - worse - that it might never end.

A few years ago, I read an article that said the reason time seems to pass more quickly as we age is because we accumulate fewer novel experiences that help to separate one hour/day/week/month from another. By the time we're middle-aged, our lives are mostly long strings of familiar activities that blur into one another, making little impression and adding fewer long term memories. To avoid that, the author suggested we take a little time each day to notice how we spend our time, what we enjoy and don't, etc. so that we don't "lose" time simply by forgetting it. Of course, keeping a daily diary is a good tool for that.

Before I retired, I imagined I'd be making lots of new memories once I didn't have to drag my sorry ass to an office every day. Living through the pandemic is a novel experience for sure, but not the kind I had in mind. And dealing with its impacts has sucked time and energy I'd planned to devote to other things.

With two months of 2021 already behind me, I'm determined to take more control of my time - or at least my sense of it. First, by making more effort to notice the days flying past - the people, activities, and thoughts that fill them - and especially which feel meaningful and which don't. Second, by not allowing other peoples' agendas to displace my own - or, at least, not as often as they have been. Lastly, by doing the things that feel joyful and nurturing first, rather than waiting to do them only after I've finished all the chores on my list. If nothing else, retirement should mean I'm freer to devote my most productive hours to the people and activities that matter most to me. 

Of course, that doesn't mean I'll always choose to do things that are fun and entertaining first. Often the things I most want to do are boring and necessary - like filing paperwork or organizing my clothes closet. What's important is that they take me in a direction of my own choosing, towards goals that are meaningful for whatever reason. 

As for deciding what's meaningful, that's a topic for another day I think, but this article outlines some interesting approaches to the question.

Until next time...

Mondays writings: Learning to say no

One of the things I was determined to do when I retired was set aside quality for writing and other creative pursuits so, soon after I left work, I firmly announced that I was blocking Mondays for writing. So much for good intentions. As it turned out, I only managed to carve out time for writing on two or three Mondays at most over the past year.

This past weekend, there was a writing workshop I was interested in attending but opted not to go because I've written so little lately. What was the point, I thought?

The point was and is that I still want to write. Or, at least, I think I do. So yesterday I recommitted to "Monday writings".

Now here it is Monday morning, and I've managed to get myself to sit down in front of the computer, with hot coffee and Irish jigs to inspire. It doesn't feel comfortable, but that's hardly surprising, given how little I've done this lately.

The next question is what do I want to write about? There's been lots on my mind lately - the climate crisis, the ongoing mistreatment of indigenous peoples in Canada and elsewhere, the difficulty of building and maintaining strong, healthy communities when so much in our culture fosters selfishness and narcissism, the challenges of aging...

But the thing I want most to write about today is the thing I'm struggling most with these days, which is learning to say "no". No to roles, responsibilities and commitments that don't interest me. No to spending time with people who consistently drain my energy. No to useless distractions on social media and elsewhere. No to being silent because the things I want and need to say make some people uncomfortable. No to living my life the way others expect me to.

I hear other women my age talk about how much freer they feel to be themselves - to say what they think, follow their dreams, etc. That hasn't been my experience.  Certainly, I'm more forthright about my political views now that I'm retired, but saying no to expectation, disappointing people who request my help, angering people I care about, and minimizing interaction with social media are still real challenges most days.

On the one hand, I think, so what? I'm retired after all. Why not just go with the flow? To some extent, I needed to do just that for the first year or so of retirement, while I recovered from working all those years and contemplated what I wanted to with the next phase of my life. Thirteen months in, it feels like time to make choices, which means screwing up the courage to say no much more often than I have been to create space for the things that matter most.

It's all true!

Over the years, I lot of retired friends told me they were busier after they retired than when they were working. They also told me I'd wonder how I ever had time for work. I confess I was skeptical, but it turns out everything they said was true. I am busier now - at least in some ways - than when I was still schlepping into an office every day.

I think it's because, as soon as I left my job, all the projects I'd put on the back burner were once again front and centre, demanding my attention. Added to which, I live with a man who never stops puttering, and whose many projects often require my input.

A case in point is our recent attic renovation. Over the past six months, we gutted the attic and installed new windows, new wiring, foam insulation, drywall and flooring. Husband did much of the work himself with help from an excellent contractor and electrician, which I very much appreciated, but that doesn't mean I wasn't implicated. My contributions were to take on a larger share of the cooking and other chores, review plans, and make dozens of necessary decisions. Add to which, there was the emotional and psychological toll of living with stacks of boxes and furniture temporarily relocated to the living room, dining room and den.

The payoff was a bright, warm studio/office space for me - which I love! - an extra bed for visitors and less cluttered storage space. That's the hope anyway. We still have some way to go dealing with all the clutter.

Truth be told, living with so many of our belongings crammed into the main part of the house for several months was an eye-opener. It forced me to really see just how much stuff we'd accumulated over the years, which was sobering to say the least - especially now, when we're doing our damnedest to walk more lightly on the planet.

Have you ever stopped to think about how much stuff you own? If not, here's a fun exercise: The next time you're seated on the toilet, count the number of items in your bathroom. I did that recently and gave up after 200. Two hundred. Don't believe me? Think about it. Towels, face clothes, toiletries, medications, shower curtain, bath mat, bath scale, decorative items... It doesn't take long to reach 200, and that's just the bathroom.

As I write this, I'm sitting in a room we refer to as the den, though I store my clothes in here as well. There's a corner cabinet housing the printer, computer and various supplies, a sofa bed, two small side tables, a bookcase, a filing cabinet, lamps, several pieces of art, a dresser and a closet - oh, and a pile of boxes that were stored in the attic. I shudder to think how many individual items there are - thousands, I suppose. How on earth did we accumulate so much stuff?

If you're imagining we've got serious hoarding issues, don't. Aside from four overstuffed bookcases, we have fewer possessions than most people we know. With things in their proper places, you'd be surprised how tidy and uncluttered it all looks. But that's part of the problem. We put a lot of effort into storing our stuff to avoid being overwhelmed by it, when the better option would be to dispose of much of it.

I've gone down a rabbit hole here, but I guess that's the point. A year ago, as I was saying farewell to friends and colleagues at work, I expected that in retirement I'd feel as though I had plenty of time to do all the things I dreamed of doing. Instead, I often feel hemmed in by the many personal projects and belongings that have quietly accumulated around us for years, and spend much less time on creative and volunteer pursuits than I hoped and expected.

Fortunately, I have been able to carve out some time to join a local choir and photo club - both of which feed my soul. I also do occasional volunteer work, which enables me to connect with interesting new people. Now that the attic's done, the theory is I'll have more time and space to tackle other projects but, of course, much depends on how well I avoid unwelcome distractions. Here's hoping I do a better job of juggling demands on my time in Year 2.

What about you, dear reader? Are you retired? If so, did you also find you had less time in retirement than you expected? What tips would you offer fellow retirees for managing their time wisely? I'd love to read your thoughts and suggestions in the comments below.