Time is a construct that continually perplexes me. 

How on earth did it get to be 2021? How can 2001 feel like it was only yesterday, but New Year’s eve feels so much more than only 18 days ago? How can it be five months since I have posted anything? 

How can time time fly by and stand still? How can it do both simultaneously?

I am in awe of the concept of time. 

While I don’t set New Year’s resolutions, I do try to look back and reflect on the past year. But I can’t help but think that it is more of just a reflection back than a reflection back to a particular time, because all of time seems to meld together in an indistinguishable reel of distinguishable memories. 

Sometime in 2020 I was convinced that it was the year I was supposed to learn patience. Did I?

Yes. 

Although maybe not in the ways I thought. 

I became a much more patient, and therefore a much better, cook. I take my time browning and sauteing items in the pan, no rushing to the next step. If food is supposed to be thawed before it becomes part of the cooking process, I make sure it is totally, not partially, thawed. If something needs more time to simmer, I let it simmer and have a cracker while my stomach rumbles. 

And then, alone or with others, I take the time to savour the outcome of patience. 

I have also learned to take the time and appreciate the luxury to be found in the most everyday things. 

I rejoice in the heat of hot, soapy dishwater on my continually cold hands. I allow myself a moment of pause and mini-celebration when something gets crossed off the to-do list, but perhaps more importantly, I also take the time to accept the circumstances when items don’t fall off the list. I play with the light and the angles, and I don’t rush the photo. I take a moment, crawling into bed or out, and enjoy the cosiness of my comfortable mattress and soft sheets. And I will be walking, stop suddenly, and revel in the presence of my surroundings. 

I think I am finally learning to appreciate the moment rather than judging whether the moment is good or bad. 

When I said I needed to learn patience, I meant patience in dealing with bureaucracy that moves one step forward and two steps back, and tolerating governments imposing Covid restrictions that are overbearing and unconstitutional. I still struggle with all of that. But I remain optimistic that learning patience in other facets of life has helped, and will continue to help, me learn patience in these areas too. 

As I type that last paragraph, I realise that maybe I just haven’t yet learned to accept the things I can’t control.

This brings me to the other big thing I’ve improved upon in 2020: self-awareness. 

I can be a frustrated, angry, petulant, pouty, miserable human being. 

At least now I stop and ask myself what is causing it. Perhaps I’m delusional, but I think I’ve gotten pretty good at figuring out the answer – when I give myself the time to do it. 

So there we are. The most amazing thing to come out of 2020? Understanding that patience and self-awareness go hand-in-hand. You can’t understand why you’re feeling what you’re feeling or doing what you’re doing when you’re always rushing around like a chicken with your head cut off. And even when you really, really want to understand something, you need to have the patience to accept that sometimes you’re not ready to understand it.

One of the few times that my psychologist would not answer my soliloquies with a question was when I would relay events and be frustrated with my lack of understanding of why something was playing out in a certain way. “You don’t need to know right now,” she would say to me, so often that she must have felt like a broken record. Well, her repetitiveness paid off. So often in times of analysis I find myself thinking, “but I don’t need to know that right now”. And I am content with that answer. 

I have not spoken with her since July of 2019, which just goes to show how indistinguishable the years are from one another. Vivid memories of Susan firmly saying those words are as clear as if she is sitting in the chair on the other side of the coffee table, looking at me with her intent, concerned gaze. I can hear her voice. It’s as though I left her office just this morning.   

The fact that time won’t separate itself into neat and tidy periods does not stop me from having aspirations for the specific time frame that is 2021. 

Maybe it’s the year that all the disconnected pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that is Tammy Perlich start to fit together.