I'm pretty sure I have a very specific version of PTSD: let's call it Pressured Time Stress Disorder. My life feels like a constant cage match: Me versus the relentless draining of sands through the hourglass. "Innnnnnnnn this corner.... it's Amy and her never-ending to do list! And in this cornerrrrrrrrrr, we have the *un.de.feat.ed champion* -- The 24-Hour Day!"
As a Mama who works full-time (and then some!), it is often the case that my days are completely filled by nothing but tasks that are centered around keeping people alive and getting people to particular places at specific times. I wake up in the morning feeling like a sprinter on the starting line, and collapse into bed at night feeling like I've run a 15-hour marathon.
And I'm not really sure that it's good for me. 

I have recently become so consciously aware of the relationship I keep with time. Of the language I use when speaking or thinking about time. More often than not, my whole vibration around time is that there is just never enough of it. 
And this vibration is so palpable to my family, I have no doubt. We live by schedules and timers and stress-filled declarations of WE ARE LEAVING IN FIVE MINUTES! This has become our norm because we actually *do* have to be places at certain times and I've got to be done with X at this time so that I have time to do Y and Z before I pass out at 9:00pm. Ya know?
But it struck me over the winter break just how deeply ingrained this way of life has become... how *constantly stressed* I feel about TIME. While away on a little family vacay in December, I realized how often my mind shifts into TO-DO LIST REVIEW MODE. Every few hours, I would have a moment of sudden panic that I was forgetting to do something. Or that I needed to get on the computer and accomplish something. I couldn't stop myself from multi-tasking, even while floating down the lazy river at Great Wolf Lodge.
I feel like something has happened to my BRAIN; that I have re-wired myself to live in a near-constant state of fight-or-flight, and the foe is the relentless ticking of the clock. 
I remember first feeling this way in grad school...being unable to fully relax and detach during breaks because I had conditioned myself so completely to be ON TASK at all times. And of course that feeling grew exponentially as I became a mother, and then went back to grad school while I had a toddler and a baby, and then took on more and more work and community responsibilities outside of my home. Which brings us to this current moment, wherein I am feeling stressed about the amount of time it's taking me to write a blog post about time. (Seriously!)
But I know that even though it is true that there are many, many things I need and *want* to fit in to each day, I have reached a point where I no longer want to have an adversarial relationship with time. I no longer want to hear myself say to my kids, "We don't have time for ________," nor do I want to model for them that life is nothing but a series of check-marks on our to-do list. 
I want slowness. I want gentle pacing. I want space between one thing and the next. 
I want to cultivate and nurture a vibration of abundance around time. 
Most importantly, I want to re-wire my brain and heal from this specific 21st-century strain of PTSD.
This week as I focus on my practice of Sacred Self-Care, I will be mindful and intentional around my energy and language related to time. I invite you to join me in noticing how we feel and how we speak to ourselves, and how we speak to others about time.
I invite you to join me, Sisters, in creating a gentler vibration for ourselves. 



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