On time, lack of meaning and small acts of kindness.
Turning 40 last summer, my mind has been unusually occupied with aging, life and what I’ve achieved so far, what I wished I had achieved, and what I am even measuring against when thinking about these things. It seems to me that most of us focus on being remembered – to have an assurance, brittle as that may be, in knowing even though you won’t be around, you’ll still linger in some sense. People will think of you, remember you. Your life will have had an impact, you did something that mattered.
I have struggled with this ever since leaving religion behind. Growing up indoctrinated in a Christian household, force-fed its theology, I am not exactly lacking in emotional baggage. I am glad to be rid of the faith, but there is one thing I miss and have not been able to replace ever since: meaning. When saying no to Christianity, I also left behind my reason for existence and the task given to me. All of a sudden, I was alone, and in the grand scheme of time and the universe, existing or not didn’t seem to make a difference.
This idea took root in such a violent way that I’ve yet to do away with it entirely. I’ve since carried a sense of meaninglessness in everything I’ve done or wanted to do in this life, from big decisions to small everyday habits. Because – why should I do anything, anything at all, if my reason for being doesn’t hold any purpose?
This lack has been a root cause for most of my abusive tendencies.
I realize this is a dark perspective, and finding my way back has been a long slow crawl. Alcohol and drugs have been reliable partners in displacing or forgetting, if only for a short while, that life held no significance and nothing I did made a difference. I was self-medicating for a spiritual injury. The honest version is that I often still find myself in the twilight of that darkness. The meaning of life purported by religion is a potent thing, a force I doubt I will ever be able to replace with something equally powerful.
Everything must now be measured on a much smaller scale – in smaller allotments of time, effort and effect. Whereas being there for a friend in hard times was valuable before, the emptiness of any action I made still weighed heavily on me. Now, I try to find meaning in just those small acts. A conversation with a friend or dinner with the guys. The weekly tech call from my mom, helping her navigate her iPhone. Or listening to my dad talk me through his latest discovery in our family heritage, something he, and unfortunately only he, is intensely interested in. I see how these things connect us, give us purpose and reason to commit ourselves to each other time and time again.
How we spend our days is how we spend our lives, as they say, so I try to be conscious about how I prioritize the most precious commodity available to me now – time. Coming from the perspective and promise of an everlasting life in the company of your chosen deity, time didn’t present the same sense of urgency in my life – I mean, I had plenty of it. But giving that up, all you have now is time. It is non-renewable, a limited lease on your stay here on earth, and as such should be used accordingly. With intent. On purpose.
I am struck by a great sadness for how much time I’ve wasted, stuck in my abuse, my outlook on life, and the curse of not grasping my own mortality. I often imagine what I could’ve done with my life, had I been able to manage it differently – what I could’ve achieved… but then again, I find myself back where I started, wondering what I am measuring against.
Quitting alcohol, I do feel like I’ve been given another chance at certain things. Not all seems so out of reach as it once did. I have a clearer sight, more energy and more willpower. But how to navigate and apply these gains is still a skill to learn, something I need to continually practice. Wasting time on alcohol or wasting time on nothing is still exactly that – wasting time. I feel like I am on the clock against myself, racing to reach a goal I haven’t defined, and that has an overarching hold on me. This is anything but effortless.