I am not sure what has been happening lately, but time and I seem to have fallen out.
The first thing that happened, was that when my hubby and I went to the cinema recently to watch a live streamed RSC Julius Caesar (wonderful, by the way!), I was sure that the advertising I had read said that it started promptly at 7 and ran for two hours straight, finishing at 9. So, we parked in a car park which allowed for three hours for free. On the way in, we clocked that it had read our number plate and helpfully told us we must be out of there by 9.35. Bags of time.
However, when act 3 started at 8.50, we started to wonder if I had got it wrong. We had a quick chat about it, as there was an interval between acts 2 and 3 (surprise!), and we decided we would just have to hope. When we got out of the cinema, it was well gone 10 pm. My hubby read the rules that were clearly up in the car park. A fine of £70 for outstaying one’s welcome. Oh dear.
The next time we were due to go out, which was last night, we both felt the need for an afternoon snooze as neither of us had had a wonderfully long sleep the night before, and we were due to be out late. We had agreed we would leave at 5.30 pm, to go to some new music at the Royal Northern College of Music (once again, absolutely wonderful! And free!). I reassured hubby that I had set the alarm (which sits on my side of the bed) for 5 pm, and we both drifted off into a contented sleep (me after him, because I am such a fidget bottom).
At 5.20 pm, I opened my eyes. I had set the alarm for 5 am, not pm. Oh dear again.
Today, I was seeing one of my clients for counselling / psychotherapy. As I was ending the session I noticed that she glanced meaningfully at the clock. And then I realised. I had given her an hour, whereas our sessions are usually 50 minutes. Oh dear oh dear oh dear.
So, what is it about me and time right now? I have been wracking my brains, but I cannot understand it. If I was going to be all psychodynamic about it, I would wonder whether I am trying to ignore time, because I am concerned about its passage. I suppose that is possible, but I doubt it somehow.
I did a quick search for ‘why do I lose track of time’ on one of the major search engines, and it came up with some pretty alarming stuff. Apparently, I am losing track of my life. Or, I could have dissociative amnesia. But then, that seems to be associated with Dissociative Identity Disorder and the kind of amnesia some of my clients have demonstrated, about abuse experienced as children. No, that is not me. Ah, but wait a minute. I could be depressed. Maybe that’s it. I know that you can be depressed without knowing it. I was, once. Just felt rubbish, like a very bad hangover. But I feel fine. So, no, I am not depressed.
Of course, my greatest fear is that this heralds the onset of the dreaded dementia. So, like a dog with a bone I decided to search ‘losing track of time and dementia’. I immediately found a publication put out by the Mental Health Foundation called Losing track of time, but it turned out to be about the ageing prison population.
I eventually gave up. The losing track of time associated with dementia is all about thinking that things that happened a long time ago were far more recent. I am not there, yet. So I guess it is back to the drawing board. I will just have to concentrate more, when setting the alarm or checking when things finish, or watching the clock for the end of a very interesting therapy session with a lovely client.
But then again, maybe I just need to forgive myself. After all, I am getting older. Sometimes, the things I could do perfectly easily even a year ago, seem more of a challenge these days. A serene self-acceptance is called for. I must work on that!
At least I can still go walking in them thar hills. Which reminds me. I must get out for a walk tomorrow. That will make me feel a whole lot better, I feel sure. I must remember to take my watch. But no. The battery is going in that. Oh, well. Time is just a human construct, anyway.