Time Changes
photo by tima miroshnichenko
Lately, my thoughts are turning to the finiteness of time. I am not sure why. Is it because I am getting closer to my half-century mark? Maybe. Time changes us all.
I have never been something overly concerned about aging.
It could be my fascination with my perception of time and how my perception is altered because of childhood abuse. How I perceive time is different than how others perceive time.
In a moment, I can be pulled back into the past, darkness ringing the edge of my sight as I lose my present. Of course, I don’t travel in time, but it does feel that way.
Uncontrollable Time
Time changes us, our circumstances, and our perspectives. That is also the inevitability of time. As time passes, it changes us. Our experiences become a part of us, and time is what allows for that.
Without our life, that time measured to the countdown of our death, we would not have the experiences that become a part of us. As much as I lament some of my life experiences, I would not be who I am today.
And as much as I lamented my inability to push time faster during the most painful moments, I am glad I didn’t. Those moments I endured all led me here.
Time to Change
Time.
Uncontrollable,
it neither stops nor starts
no matter how much people beg,
the clock ticks on,
marking the passage of
time.
Each “tick,” “tick,”
becomes an involuntary twitch of fear,
that we will be lost,
forgotten in a moment.
As the last breath exhaled,
stilling the body—the carriage of life—
in that second
we become the past.
Talked about in the past tense,
hushed tones. Respect for the
shift from present to past as the
shuffling of feet, discomfort in the presence of the past,
move beyond the expiration of life,
already thoughts of the future
become the focus.
For time, ever moving forward,
is the marker of change.
Within change lies fear.
Of what?
That we will change?
Or that we will be forgotten?
As so often occurs as time passes,
Those who remember us,
who knew us when time was on our side,
when breath fills our lungs,
those memories will also pass into
the past tense.
Inevitably we will be forgotten.
Is that not what we fear the most?
The decay of old age,
the seeping loss of that most precious thing—
time.
Do you find yourself reacting to the present day like it was a past moment? I know I do that. I found therapy a place where I can heal. I know you will too.
I recommend Online-Therapy.* 
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