27 Years and 1 day

I would be lying if I didn’t say I am feeling a bit lost these days. I have made it through 9,863 days on this planet and somehow I still manage to forget that life will always change when you least expect it. I have lived through days where time moved at its slowest, forcing you to question if you will ever make it to your next big event. I have lived through days (even weeks) where I cannot keep up with time, big event after big event striking like lightning. In my opinion, people prefer when time moves fast. They don’t need to focus on anything but the pace of time, such an interesting habit that humans pursue. Of course, we all want time to slow when we are on vacation or we spend time with a loved one or we experience at event. I guess we prefer time to always work in our favor; slow for the benefit of our leisure, fast for the benefit of our work. We figure out clever ways to manipulate time. We play with certain ideas that are considered more valuable than others. We typically assign these ideas with even more ideas. If your idea serves as an umbrella for even more ideas, you can spend all your time under that umbrella, avoid the rain of confusion, and continue walking around the clock at your own preferred rate. A little abstract, stay with me though. While this was not the first time (and certainly not the last), today was a rare case where time was neither slow nor fast. Time completely froze in place, knowing very well that I am not its ruler. Unfortunately for me, I was stuck in the moment.

Now, some of you may read that last sentence and have a disconnect with the word “unfortunately.” If you were to read any self help book or visit any high end boutique store or even read some of our classic philosophers, there seems to be this universal rule that living in the moment is better than living in the past, future, or any other timeline that I may be missing (could you even try to imagine a fourth dimension of time that was not the past, present, or future?). Sure, there is some value to living in the moment, especially when that moment peaks your senses. Visually appealing choices of fish for dinner. Melodic Sounds playing on my speaker while I begin to cook. Delicious dinner: Salmon, risotto, salad with a poppyseed dressing, glass of wine. Smells of garlic cooking in butter. Soft sheets to lay down on after a long day of work and cooking dinner. Yes, that was a nice moment, but the following moment didn’t have any of those senses. The following moment was nonsensical. It was simply me and my mind, battling again for what seems like the last 300 days. So, I did the thing that helps me the most these days, I started to write.

I still struggle with sharing my thoughts and my ideas with the ones closest to me. I am afraid that I may never be able to truly express this grand idea I have locked in the back of my head. I struggle with making close connections with people. Part of that happened after my dad passed away, but I can’t fall back on that forever. I struggle to maintain consistency in my actions; I have this strange distaste for scheduled behavior. Part of that may be my relation with Time. I spent years trying to control time, only to lose control and now time controls me. Energy all day and all nights. I find my inspiration to work on these projects at the weirdest hours. One day I am perfect, the next day I am anxious. No rhyme or reason. Most of these struggles came to light in the last 300 days. An entire year trying to understand who I am, what I want in life, and why I do the things I do. In some ways, I have made great progress. I embraced my chaos, a somewhat counterintuitive but valuable lesson. I am learning to accept the lows and the highs that life kindly provides. I continue to try new avenues to make me happy - writing, podcasting, drawing, creating my own place to open up a bit. In other ways, I question myself and my decisions. I battle with depression. I embraced the chaos, but like time, chaos can have a control over me that I know harms the best version of myself.

I grew up with friends that were addicts. Family members too for that matter. It is tough seeing myself battle addiction even when I know the consequences of these actions. My addiction is less alcohol or drugs (although I still enjoy both quite a bit). No, my addiction is to my ego. My addiction is to the desire to control everything. Addicted to perfection. Addicted to pleasing everyone. Addicted to the chaos in many ways. Big event after big event in the last three years. Some events would be described as great. Others would be described as awful. To me, they all blend these days. Just another piece to the Story of David Corrigall, may it be the best and most interesting story you ever read.

They say everything in moderation. I would like to apply that idiom to control. If you cannot release control, then control will release itself. You may lose control over something minor or you may lose control over everything. Life works in ways that I will never fully understand. I lost control over my emotions this year. I lost control of my reality in many ways and was presented a new reality. In this reality, I feel like I am on the outside looking in whereas my last reality felt a lot like the inside looking out. Strange when your entire world perspective changes, the way you think about ideas is completely foreign to the way you thought about them a year ago, and you can barely explain to anyone why or how this happened. You walk around with one abstract idea hovering in the back of your head everyday. You try to take that abstract idea and add light to it. Paint a picture so everyone can understand you. You aren’t a good painter, but you decide to learn. You hope that, with time (maybe in a healthier relationship), you will perfect your idea. You will bring it to life. You will free the ideas of those around you who also live in the abstract. All very beautiful, yes. Unless, of course, you live under the umbrella of your own idea.

To those who live under their umbrella still, they control their time. They avoid the rain. All they need is sunshine. Good times. Fast times in the modern era. Slow times in the nostalgia. Well, just know one thing: A Hard Rain’s A‐Gonna Fall.