December Musings…

H&M sweater
Wilfred skirt (similar)
Sezane boots
Chanel handbag
Linjer ring (c/o)
Mejuri earrings (c/o) (similar)
Location: The Exchange District – Winnipeg, Manitoba

It doesn’t feel like it should be December sixteenth yet. I woke up this morning feeling like time has been set to fast forward for the past four months. The summer this year dragged on in a way that periods of time rarely do in your thirties. Despite the sunny weather, the days were long and draining. I spent most of my time feeling like my seven-year-old self in the lead-up to Christmas, anxiously waiting for time to pass until we could finally go to Athens.

And then we went to Athens. That was three months ago, but it feels like three minutes ago. Since then, I’ve been to Edmonton and Ottawa. And New York. And Edmonton again. Its all a bit of a blur, if I’m honest – I can’t remember exactly the order of events, just that I’ve been coming and going and coming again. And in the meantime, time is passing all around me while I struggle to keep up. I was chilly, but comfortable, taking these photos a month ago. Yesterday, I took my gloves off outside to snap a photo on my iPhone and almost sustained frostbite. Christmas is just over a week away now…

..and I haven’t been ready for any of it. I might be ready by January, but I can’t promise anything.

I know that our perception of time changes as we age. The more time we experience, the more we perceive how quickly it passes. But for me personally, there are still times when I revert to a childlike relationship with time. It usually happens when I am waiting for an event I’m excited about – suddenly, every moment feels like a year. Those periods are excruciating, but also undeniably productive. The only problem is that once they end – usually after the momentous holiday I’ve been counting down to – my adult perception of time returns and suddenly, life is a frantic race against the clock again.

Maybe the real problem isn’t that I don’t have enough time. Maybe it’s that, like most people in the Western world, my sense of accomplishment is really just a measure of my output – the more activity I manage to cram into a day, the more successful I perceive myself to be. It’s absurd, of course. Whether or not I manage to wrap one more present today does not have any bearing on my worth as a human being. I understand that intellectually. But I’ve internalised so many ideas about what makes me valuable as a person that the habits associated with that line of thinking are nearly impossible to break.

So here we are in December and, like everyone else, I’m feeling frantic. But the fact is, the holidays will arrive on schedule no matter what I do – or don’t manage to get done. And then January, my least favourite month of the year will come. Time will slow to a crawl and every dark, cold day will feel long. I’m not ready for it to be December sixteenth, but maybe that’s actually a good thing, because it means I’ve been enjoying my life these past four months. And isn’t that enjoyment really the point of living?

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