It’s startling how quickly time can pass sometimes. One moment we’re shuffling through thick, humid days that seem to go on forever and the next we’re watching trees burst into brilliant orange and reeling about the fact that we’re on the holidays’ doorstep. (Or celebrating it. You do you.)
But in other seasons, time stretches on and on. A couple of weeks can feel like a lifetime, and it seems like there was no time before this. No time before you know what you know now.
Maybe you can relate?
I’m realizing I have some preconceived ideas about time that, if left unexamined, can lead to a fair amount of shame. For example, I recently passed the one-year anniversary of leaving my job to pursue my own writing and freelancing. When I look at how I spent my days this past year, I’m generally okay with it. I didn’t do things perfectly—there was plenty of stumbling through it as I tried to find my footing. But I see a lot of progress and a handful of good things.
However, when I start thinking about a year going by, anxiety begins to whir. A year sounds so significant, so solid. All of a sudden I’m scrambling to see what I have to show for it. My mind goes straight to the public things—the things I published or that made money. And that list is . . . well, short. On the heels of this fun mental exercise, comparison and shame roll in, telling me how much more other people could have accomplished and that I should have been more productive.
On the other hand, I spent the summer anticipating a big change only to have the rug pulled out from under me. A part of me knows I have every right to grieve. This is a deep loss. But the timeframe was relatively short, and every once in a while a less-than-generous voice pops into my head: A couple of months is nothing—a blip in time, the voice says. Should you really be this sad?
(Side note: Let me just say that shaming yourself about your grief is never the answer. Grief isn’t linear, and it’s not about efficiency. Go gently here.)
The word “should” is giving me pause these days, because it keeps showing up. I’m starting to see a pattern: Many of the “shoulds” in my head circle back to my productivity, my capacity, and a skewed sense of time.
I should have accomplished more. I should be able to handle this. I shouldn’t be so sensitive. I should be over this by now.
I’m trying to question these underlying assumptions. Why am I so sure that a year is a long time? Who says my capacity is better or worse than anyone else’s? Why do I think a couple of months shouldn’t have this big of an impact?
If a particular anniversary (or the passing of time in general) is causing you anxiety these days, here are some questions I’ve been thinking through. I hope they help you reflect on your assumptions, find some clarity, and ease the internal pressure as we approach the end of the year.
What “shoulds” are you believing? Where do those messages come from? Maybe it’s a specific person or a cultural value. Who gets to decide how long you need for something? How do you feel about the things you have (or haven’t) done in this season?
Are you comparing yourself to anyone? Ask yourself: What does that person have that I want? Now try to dig a layer deeper. Can you name the root of that desire? If so, can you see anything good in wanting that thing? How does that change how you feel about it?1
How would you define productivity right now? How do you feel about that definition? Maybe you’re checking things off all the lists and it feels exciting and motivating. Or maybe thinking about productivity feels threatening, like it just might crush you. If that’s you, imagine what it would be like to redefine productivity in this season (or throw that word out altogether). How would that change things?
What’s most important to you in this season? Not always and forever, but just right now. Does how you spend your time reflect those values and priorities? If not, what’s preventing you from investing in them? Maybe it’s someone’s unrealistic expectations (or your own), or maybe it’s very real demands on your time that you can’t change. Don’t give in to shame or despair here—you can’t control everything, but you do have some agency. What’s one small thing you can do to move toward those values?
This one feels big to me right now: What unseen things are taking a lot of energy? Maybe you’re laying the foundation for a project, untangling old beliefs, navigating health issues, or grieving a loss. Are you being realistic about how much time and energy is going to those hidden (but significant) things? How does naming them impact your perspective? Do you need to adjust or release any expectations (of yourself or others)?
Time is weird, friends. Emily P. Freeman gave me a little language for this recently (as she so often does) when she said “. . . a year is a long time and also no time at all.”
A year can make a big difference, but it’s not long enough to change everything. Two months is no time at all, but it might mark you for the rest of your life.
Somehow we live within these time-condensing, time-stretching paradoxes as we plod our way through each day. Maybe the invitation here is to release our pressure-filled ideas about time, to let those “shoulds” flutter away like the falling leaves.
Instead, we can reflect on the realities of our right-now lives and remind ourselves this, too, is a season. Whatever productivity looks like, whatever takes priority right now, wherever your energy is going—it won’t be like this forever. That’s not to diminish anything you’re going through right now. It’s valid, it matters, and I hope you feel seen and known in it. Just remember be gentle with yourself when things don’t look the way you expected. Don’t dismiss the progress you’ve made. Don’t get lost in someone else’s values and lose sight of your own. Don’t underestimate the amount of time and energy going to unseen things. Name what’s true and take one small step. Trust that these things build. I’ll do my best to do the same.
This idea comes from The Soul of Desire by Curt Thompson. Thompson says when we’re envious, it’s helpful to dig a couple of layers deeper. When we do that, we’ll usually see a good (even a really beautiful) desire that’s driving our envy, which can help us move toward the things that we want most. For example, on the surface, it may seem like you’re envious about a coworker getting a promotion, but underneath that could be a longing to be recognized. And underneath that desire to be recognized could be a longing to connect with people or to know that your work makes a difference, both of which are good, God-given desires.
Beautiful, friend. 💙