So Claytie and I have made a working schedule, and it involves me getting up at the ridiculous hour of 7:30 am tomorrow. And, of course, I have been tossing and turning in bed for the last hour, unable to sleep. Chances of sticking to schedule: approximately 30%.

Something I’ve been thinking about lately is my relationship to time, and here’s the thing: I have a bad one. Me and Time just weren’t meant to be. I mean, he’s nice and all, but I’m starting to suspect him of being emotionally abusive, and they say once you recognize the signs, you should get out, and fast. But it’s gonna take more than a little courage, and a bit of figuring out how, to break up with Time.

One thing I’ve consciously avoided all my life is worrying about what I eat. I really like to eat, and it would be a shame if ever in my life I felt guilty for chowing down on something I enjoy. This is something I make room for in my life, and I tend to be drawn to things that are good for me anyway (thanks mom) and my occasional indulgences are just lovely (and usually punish me enough later that the guilt is unnecessary, aversion-wise). But what I’ve recently realized is that I feel like I’m on a Time diet that I’m constantly blowing. And I suffer for it, every time.

It’s come to a head with this recent month of relatively unstructured life, though it started years ago. I overestimate what I’m capable of accomplishing in a given chunk of time; I constantly second-guess whatever I’m doing at the moment, because there might be a more productive way I could be spending my time; and no matter how much I do in a day, I usually feel like I haven’t done enough. And I feel guilty about it. And I long for ‘free’ time, but when I have it I stress out about the stuff I’m not accomplishing. The only times I have that feel truly free of expectations, ironically, are nights like this, when I should be sleeping but for one reason or another the brain and body just aren’t cooperating. I can’t possibly be to blame for this, and no one could reasonably expect me to be productive with this time, so whatever I do is more or less a freebie. Maybe that’s why my insomnia’s been worse lately.

I’ve all but stopped reading novels, because I can’t pick one up without the haunting feeling that there’s something more important that I ought to be doing. I’m one of those people who’s late to stuff more often than not, mostly because I consistently underestimate the amount of time it’s going to take me to leave the house. I frequently make complex and exhaustive and rigorous schedules for myself that I don’t have a chance of keeping. Sound familiar, dieters?

So…what the hell do I do about it? Expect Less just doesn’t seem like a good option. I try to ’schedule’ myself time to be spontaneous, which is rather ironic, and over and over again I let new events (social, work-related, whatever) bulldoze into my expectation-free time without much of a hesitation. I need a new way to trick myself into being guilt-free about time. If…if any of you have any ideas…

Wide awake in Westhaven,
Alissa