How does it feel to be running out of time?
Hustling our way through life.
“You’re right on time. I had the sense when I was young that I had to hurry up and get to a certain place and I missed a lot. Just be where you are. See what’s here.”
Melissa Febos in Sam Baker’s Substack called 30 things women over 40 want you to know.
In my novel, the protagonist, a woman named Eve Church, went from studying hard for her GCSEs at the age of sixteen to earning four A-levels two years later, then attending university as an undergraduate to gain a BA (Hons) degree. After barely taking a breath, she moved to London, hitched herself to the career ladder and moved her way up until she had a child.
It was only when she gave birth and paused her career that she realised she’d been rushing through her entire life. She urgently needed to take her exams, she urgently needed to get a degree, she urgently needed to get on the career ladder. When that job didn’t appear to be going anywhere, she didn’t waste time thinking about what she really wanted to do; she simply applied for a better-paid position in a similar field. She also urgently needed a husband; she couldn’t bear not knowing what her future might hold. And then she urgently needed to start thinking about buying a house and having children.
She went from one project and life stage to the next without pausing and simply sitting back and enjoying what was happening in her life there and then.
She was exhausted. And was completely unaware of who she really was.
Oh wait. That isn’t just my main character. That’s also me.
Postnatal depression forced me to slow down. I literally couldn’t do life any other way. Although my sense of urgency and impulsiveness would pop up every now and again. Should we make more space in the house for our growing family? Ooh, look, scaffolding is up and the loft is being extended. Shall we move house? Bam, the house was on the market.
At the beginning of my writing journey, this sense of urgency would guide me. I wanted to write online, so I started a blog and soon was writing for other people’s blogs and making a (very small) income. At the expense of my novel. I wanted to grow my business and make more money, so I paid for a course, set up a brand new website, changed my Pinterest and…lost my creative self. I wanted to convince publishers that I was a viable asset, so I created a platform on Instagram. And forgot I was a writer.
My impatient urge to rush through my life and race from one thing to the next sent me off course significantly.
And because I was sent off course, once I occasionally took a breath and looked up, I found I wasn’t where I thought I’d be. So, again, I had to rush to make up for lost time.
For many years, therefore, I felt I was running out of time. My age was beginning to creep up. I’d gone from an abundance of pregnancy hormones to losing my hormones. My son was coding clever stuff at university. My daughter was constructing her own creative life. And I was thinking: Why haven’t I got the publishing deal yet? Why haven’t I explored self-publishing? Why aren’t I writing for magazines? Why haven’t I made my first million? Why can I not be consistent on YouTube? Why the hell do I keep burning out?
Fifty is galloping towards me from over the horizon. If not now, then when?
The temptation is to keep rushing, keep throwing energy at the wall and seeing what sticks. And to keep on that treadmill where I rush, then burn out, rush, then burn out.
On this website, they say: At its core, time anxiety is the fear that you’re not accomplishing enough or that you’re wasting precious time. It’s as if life has set an invisible deadline, and you’re constantly racing against it.
It can be caused by societal and cultural expectations, anxiety and depression, trauma and past experiences, and ADHD and time management challenges.
For me (and Eve), I think societal and cultural expectations were absorbed and taken literally, making unbreakable rules in our heads. As a Generation X woman, I was told I could have it all. Culture started to show women as accomplished and ambitious (although they still had to be beautiful, well-groomed and thin). I aspired to be Melanie Griffith in Working Girl, with the corner office and working my way up the career ladder.
I was in control. I’d ticked off my GCSEs, my A-levels, my undergraduate degree and my career in the City of London. Things were progressing as planned. Then a baby came along, with schedules and routines thrown out the window, and it was a shock. I didn’t cope well. I realised I couldn’t have it all, after all. So I tried to regain control when I switched careers (from professional services marketing to writing), and I experimented with many work projects to make myself seem more professional. More business-y, more go-getting, more impressive.
Only I stupidly burned out, didn’t I? Not once, but twice. Like the postnatal depression, this forced me to slow down. It forced me to take stock of my life and creative life. Through journaling and writing about my thoughts and feelings, I shrugged off this mistaken concept that time was running out.
It’s now a few years later, and obviously, I’m now much closer to fifty than I was. But I’m at peace. And strongly believe that this is where I’m supposed to be, and I’m enjoying looking around and seeing what is here.
We WERE told we could have it all! I'm on the tail end of the Boomers, and that message cost me dearly. I got married, on schedule, but found out no babies would be had. And that message really changed my whole life. I was now on this journey just for me. I went back to university in my forties and had my dream career as an educator before retiring. And now I read posts from a writer in the UK who adores mysteries and 'Working Girl'. She says she often doesn't have it together, but she inspires me so much, so I think she is plenty together. I mean, just today, it looks like she used some blossoms from her garden in her journal. Beautiful! Very clever and it made me smile just thinking of how much fun she had creating. You have shared another wonderful piece, Helen. Thank you❣️
I read this at the perfect time for me. Thank you Helen--I love your posts, and this one seemed written just for me. I need to slow down, to listen to self, but that is not what I have been conditioned to do, raised in a rather cult-y, high-demand religion. Even though I've lived half a lifetime away from it, that conditioning echoes in all I do. I've raised 6 kids, have 10 grandkids, & a husband with needs and dreams more important than mine (it seems so to me), and still the dreams of my own (most of them) are sitting on that back burner, calling out to me.
I have found that life circumstances have had me in a constant internal renegotiation for a few years now, for several "important" reasons (at least, I tell myself they are important). What can I let go of? What do I absolutely keep? Do any of my dreams even matter? It seems not, not when I am constantly being bombarded by the needs of others.
And then, 2 months ago, I get hit with an emotional trauma that breaks me, and I'm near drowning for over a month. In the midst of that drowning, I get slammed AGAIN... suddenly and unexpectedly. This time trauma hits me in the form of a freak accident. In my very own tranquil backyard garden, I trip and fall, my head slams so hard into my house that it breaks my back. Literally-- a broken back. Is this another kind of renegotiation? Is this the universe trying to tell me something? I think it is.
After 4 weeks of sitting in the same position, staring out the window and literally watching the branches grow on the tree I see outside, I hear refrains of hard conversations that must be had, because even in this state I find myself in, I see that I am ultimately on my own. Living a life giving service to others is a good thing, and I do believe that, but when you become unrecognizable to yourself, become lost and invisible, then that is a tragedy. At least it feels like a tragedy to me. I could be wrong. Regardless, the universe IS trying to tell me something, and it's definitely slowed me down enough so I have no choice but to listen. (hmmm... maybe I should use this comment to write more about this, dig deeper, further investigate? ...hmmm...