Time Travel

Triage at catastrophic events or just plain everyday nastiness, elicits questions from the helpers to those bent and bewildered, “Can you tell me your name? Do you know what day it is?” Presumably, this is to determine their state of consciousness. Is there an unseen head injury? I always want to be the one asking the questions, never answering. Well, wouldn’t we all. But, if I was asked the question about what day it is, I would fail, without ever being bonked on the head. It’s one of those shameful secrets I keep close to me. When I go to work, I have to write the calendar date and the day of the week down on my notepad and go over it about three times, just to drive into my brain some time awareness; it’s relevant to the work I do. Even with this practice, I have been caught obviously confused regarding expiry dates and the present dates, being out entire seasons, not just months or days. Perhaps I was dropped on my head as a baby, although my parents deny it.

I still manage okay. I show up for work on time and on the correct day. I hit people’s birthdays like a dart in the range of a number as opposed to the bull’s-eye, and I seldom miss a meal. But, that’s a time schedule independent of any manmade schemes, isn’t it? Well, it is for me. Much like my sleep patterns. Work demands that I keep a twenty-four hour clock so it isn’t unusual for me to be wide awake when the world sleeps and sound asleep (or trying to be) when bulldozers and weed eaters are chalking up the decibels.

I don’t wear a watch and for most of my life have resisted societal conformity to putting one on. I’d like to say that that’s out of a great rebellion, or independent spirit. In truth though, it is because I’m seldom in the present moment anyway. I’m usually wishing for a different past while waiting for the future to get here. It’s all such a waste of …you guessed it, time. Now that I’ve collected some time in my bones and passed the half way mark of my life expectancy, I’ve moved from dabbling in time frames that aren’t here and cleverly come up with time shifting. It’s not really original. In fact, it’s a take on the old adage, “if I knew then what I know now…”

I spent my youth not appreciating myself and my beauty. Like a puppet on a marketer’s string, I was always dissatisfied with my looks. So, I was either losing weight or contorting myself into strange costumes just to look like someone else. I was forever in a tug of war with my body: hating it, loving it, hating it. But of course, twenty years later I look back and see what a beautiful young woman I was. Which makes me think that twenty years from now, I’ll look back and see what a beautiful woman I am now. So rather than wait a couple decades to appreciate myself, I’m acting as if I am twenty years older than I am, and am looking back at myself and loving me for the beauty I hold today. It’s time travel in an instant. I call that a superpower.