I have struggled to keep track of days and times ever since we got back from Vancouver. One day last week, I thought I had over slept so that I couldn’t take the dog for a walk. I jumped out of bed and rushed to get ready for work, but when I walked back into my room to get dressed, my clock read 6:20 AM. What it should have read was 7:20 AM. Not knowing what else to do, I finished getting dressed and I went to work. I repeatedly refer to the current day as the day before. This week, I arrived to an appointment an hour early truly believing I was ten minutes late. Michael has spent the last two weeks telling me what day it is and what day it will be tomorrow.

I have also gotten into a habit of not even taking a glance at the weather reports. Wednesday morning, I rode my scooter to work even though I could see dark clouds in the west. I just shrugged and figured they would move on and it was just going to be another typical hundred degree day. Instead, it rained and rained. At around three in the afternoon, Jeff checked the radar and said that now was the best time to get home without getting rained on. I raced home, feeling a few drops of rain hit my face and chest. I pulled Valerie into the garage and shut the garage door just as the downpour hit.

Time is just something I have stopped noticing while I focus on other things at the moment.

The earlier version of me would be really annoyed with myself for not being able to keep track of time. This version of me is only mildly anxious. I have meticulously put things on my calendar and my daily list appears on my desktop. I have reminders for appointments and Michael to remind me of what day it is. I am just organized enough to be able to know what’s happening and when. This is good enough for me. The gratitude here comes in the form of letting go. It’s like I am slowly popping off the restrictive rubber bands that I have wrapped around my own body. Each band represents some ridiculous rule I’ve made for myself.

And it feels really good to break those rules.