Lesson #5: Appreciate the Time

TIME. Something people claim they never have enough of. Something people wish to pass by. Time is defined as a measurable period during which an action or process exists. It is also defined as an appointed, fixed, or customary moment for something to happen, begin, or end. Time is unpredictable.

The time was 1:31 p.m. When I left Pittsburgh that day, I was to attend a funeral. Someone’s time here on Earth had ended and I was headed to support a friend through this difficult time. Hold her hand and lend my shoulder to cry on. I left at 12:30 p.m. to make it home, change and be at the funeral home by 3 o’clock for the viewing. You can plot each detail, account for traffic, bad conditions, but you cannot plan for the erratic.

I remember the days complaining of no time. Days were full of constant running, work to classes back to work and then off to practice or rehearsal. Time is now all I have. The days have never seemed longer. I have all the time imaginable and absolutely nothing to do with it. The expression, “you always want what you can’t have”, is in fact very true. Why is it though that we always long for what we can’t have? You hope for open time and when you get it, you beg for your old, hectic schedule to return. As a collective assembly, we are selfish of wanting. Noting is appreciated, it is expected.

Rarely do we take the time to stop and appreciate the things that surround us. We are in such a rush to scurry through, hustling from place to place or moment to moment. We never take in a moment, let it play out. We push on through to the next, never truly appreciating what the previous moment may have had in store.

Have you ever taken the time to sit at the window and watch the snow fall? Watch as each individual snowflake falls to the ground. Some cling to the branches, others dust the side walk. Some pile on top creating inches, while others never seem to stop falling, they dance about with the wind. Each snowflake falls with such grace, floating, hanging in the sky. Choose a snowflake and watch as it falls. The snowflake’s path is unpredictable, never certain where the flake may land.

A falling snowflake is similar to the idea of time. Time moves with grace, we are the ungraceful. Time lingers, we choose not to see that. Time is unpredictable. We never know where it may take us, where we will end up. Time is ongoing just as life is. Your path is yet to be laid out. One moment can change the path, shifting life in a new direction. Time creates the moments. It is our decision to act upon the moments.

Let time linger, play out the moments. Stop for the kiss in the parking lot. It’s okay to be a few minutes late for the movie. Pull off to the side of the road to take in the sunset. It’s not every day that the sky possesses that color scheme. Lay out in the back yard and watch the eclipse, that’s what DVR is for. Pause for the picture in the park, your dinner party can wait. Accept the dance, who knows when you’ll be asked again. Take in every aspect of the first “I love you”, there’s nothing like it. Take in your surroundings, where you were, why you were there. Remember his eyes. Recall his voice, his smile, and the feeling it brought to you. Appreciate the moments.

Take the time to watch the snow fall. You never know when the last flake will descend.

Lesson #12: Taking Off the Mask

“You have to be strong, you can’t let anyone see what’s really going on in there,” I tell myself. “You don’t want them to think you can’t handle this.”

Strength is something I am forced to possess. Not the kind of strength that allows you to show off at the gym or the strength that enables you to untwist the too-tight soda cap. I’m talking about the kind of strength that aids in hiding emotion. The ultimate test of strength isn’t the amount of weight you can withhold but how well you can choke back the tears.

One of the hardest parts of ‘dealing’ is talking. Constant questions:

“What happened?”
“How are you doing?”
“Are you okay?”
And the oh-so-inspirational departing remark, “You are so strong.”

I am so strong; at least that’s what they tell me. They don’t see me though. They see the façade I put on. They see the mask I wear. The mask called strength. This mask allows me to hide my true feelings. Showing true emotion, breaking down that barrier exposes me to vulnerability and vulnerability isn’t something that looks good on me.

The last thing you grab when leaving the house is usually your keys, phone, purse, or wallet. The last thing I am sure to grab before departing is my mask. I never go anywhere without the mask. The mask is what provides protection. The mask allows me to shrug things off, come back with comedic remarks, laugh at the sadness, make jokes about the pain.  The mask is my vibranium shield. Fire anything at me and my mask is sure to respond.

I have found though that my mask is not invincible. The mask has a kryptonite, loneliness. Loneliness pulls the mask off, leaving me exposed. Exposed to what I hide underneath. When the mask comes off, the tears come out. All the emotion rushes to the surface and I am faced with what I have been pushing aside. I am forced to deal with what happened and where I am today. What causes the greatest pain is the why. Why did it happen? The why is what causes the most tears.

The funny thing about loneliness is that it sneaks up on you. The kryptonite can be hiding anywhere. One moment you’re completely content with yourself and the amazing progress you’re making. The next you’re curled up in a ball on the bed in tears, confused and conflicted. The effects of the kryptonite last anywhere from a few minutes to hours and are typically broken by a puppy kiss or an unexpected phone call, reminding me that things are getting better. I have to keep in mind where I have come from. Sometimes you just have to go through the bad to get to the better.

“You are so strong,” they say. “I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

It’s not something you choose to do. You don't have a say in the matter. It’s something you’re forced to do.

"You don’t want to see me without the mask on. That's not a pretty site,” I tell them.