How Time Changes

What time is to us, how we perceive and manage it, may change with the arrival of chronic pain. When I was able to work, it was as an engineer/project manager. I installed and supported internet protocol capable telephone systems for businesses. In terms of working dial tone, the buck stopped with me. It was unacceptable to leave a client without dial tone. If that meant sixteen-hour days on the weekend, that's what I worked. If I had to stay until two a.m. on a weekday and show up for work at eight a.m. the next day, I did that. Time was of the essence whether troubleshooting or at an install. On call 24/7, my time was often not my own. I was frequently short on time in my personal life. Yet, I love technology and I loved my clients. I felt the trade-off was worth it.

Now time has taken on a whole new dimension, often defined by pain, its intensity, and the duration of intense pain. In some senses, it shapes who I am and how I relate to others. How much sleep will I get? If pain keeps me awake, will I be able to drive safely? Do I cancel the doctor's appointment or try to find someone to drive me? For the rare lunch out with friends, can I make it, or do I cancel . . . again? Do I push myself beyond safe limits or perhaps have to accept innuendo that I am irresponsible and unreliable? Do I simply watch as potential new friendships, and sometimes old friendships, slip away because I am now too slow or unable to show up consistently? If I'm exhausted, will I have the energy to make sure I walk safely and don't fall? Or, would it be better to stay put in a chair or on the couch? How I use time during the day can be determined by time, the amount of time I was able to sleep. Where I previously managed my time to fulfill responsibilities to others, I now manage my time to fulfill responsibilities to myself. Of primary importance is managing time to protect myself.

This project takes every bit of resources I have. It requires drive, self-monitoring, and a strong sense of responsibility. An outsider might think of this as a selfish project. In reality, the more distance I can have from an emotional desire for a particular outcome, the more objectivity I bring to the project, the better I do. I use time not for what I want, but for what is best for me. I often pass on fun outings because they represent too much time in the car or too much time standing. I deliberately limit myself to protect the mobility I retain. If I experience others' disapproval and distancing, I use it to strengthen my character with the understanding that it's okay if others don't understand. How lucky they are to not know chronic pain! I use my experiences to increase my compassion for others.

I also use my time to explore. Thank goodness for the internet! I can go places and learn things that would have been utterly beyond reach in the past. All those subjects that interested me for years are now open for me. I evolve and adjust to friendships supported more by phone and online time than in-person time. While I am conscious of the negative impact of television, I am glad it is there when that feels like all I am capable of. When I have done all that I can do in one day to address my situation skillfully, my time is truly my own. I use it to educate myself, satisfy my interests, expand my mind, hone my character, chat with friends, and relax. Time for these things is a gift.