They say that a side-effect of getting older is that the years begin to feel shorter. This speeding up of things as I circle the drain of life is certainly something I haven’t gotten used to yet. In a blink of an eye, the last year came and went. It feels like just yesterday that I was standing on the precipice of the great opportunity I saw 2021 as being and now, days from the New Year, I’m wondering if I can seize control of 2022 and enjoy the ride in a way I wasn’t able to these last twelve months.
Don’t get me wrong - I feel proud of what I accomplished this year. Especially after the absolute buzzkill that was 2020. I wrote a comic, I opened a movie theater, I took an amazing trip to the Pacific Northwest, I moved into a new apartment. I feel healthier, happier, and more productive than I did a few years ago. 2021, as far as years go, was aight.
But boy did it go by fast.
I don’t think people function well when they know the full extent of their mortality. And yet, the knowledge that I have, at best, another few decades of really good years left ahead of me fills me with a burning desire to make the most of them. I have places to go, people to meet, stories to tell and experiences to be had. These pandemic years feel, in a lot of ways, like I’m treading water. Every choice is a balance between the safety of myself and others and my desire to not waste another year of my life tiptoeing around a deadly virus.
The truth of the matter, though, is that if it wasn’t the virus it would be something else. Bills that need to be paid, a lifestyle that I’ve grown used to, goals and aspirations both short-term and long-term that takes time to blossom. The problem is that I’m just too damn impatient. I have spent the last twelve months planting seeds that I hope will grow into change - new opportunities, new experiences, new chances to do the things I want to do. But, like a hungry kid watching the oven and waiting for his pizza rolls to heat up, I’m willing to eat a luke-warm meal because I failed to wait the prescribed period of time for things to be ready.
I’m itching for a change but I’m not ready for that change yet - and I worry that I’m going to screw myself over in the short term because I couldn’t muster up the bare minimum of patience needed for the long term. And so, I struggle and I focus and I live in a perpetual state of an upset tummy because of the related stress. I must continue to fight against my very nature. And, wouldn’t you know it, nothing makes time fly like the fear that time is not flying fast enough.
A few weeks ago I wrote about how, as a mental exercise, I wrote down a list of the most important things to me right now. I've decided to make these first few weeks of 2022 all about gaining financial independence. So much of my plans depend on me whittling down the debt I have accrued over the last twenty years. I am going to distract myself from my own impatience by focusing on the Spartan lifestyle I will need to learn how to live in order to achieve this financial freedom. Just how little can I learn to spend? What can I do without? What bad habits can I break?
Every day I pick one thing in my life that I can do without and I get rid of it. Some days it’s something I already own but do not want to pay the price needed to maintain it - a collection, a habit, or an addiction. Other days it’s something I want and I work to convince myself that it’s not something I need. Every day I get a little better at not spending money but this is only one half of the equation. The key to a moderate lifestyle is not complete abstence. I need to learn to control my impulses, not obliviate them.
It’s a work in progress. I’m a work in progress. But hey - mentally convincing myself that I don’t need new towels is a great distraction for the fact that I live a paradoxical life where my days are too fast yet not fast enough.