Time and Stress

I've been saving this topic for a while and it seems like an appropriate time to pull it out. Last week was pretty much awful. Starting on Sunday my stomach--hard to please and easy to upset, even on a good day--decided that it was time for an all-out rebellion. Halfway through church I was pretty sure I was just going to throw up right there in the pew. Though it subsided a little, this feeling continued for the rest of the week. Then on Monday I had a minor panic attack over things that needed to be done for work and school and life as an adult. I got it together and even got done everything I needed to do (and did it well, I think), but the whole week was just stressful. I don't get stressed very often or very easily, but when I do I do it big. That and the stomach issue compounded one another and basically added up to a very unhappy week. I'm doing much better now on both accounts, but tonight I looked at my calendar and had to take deep breaths when I realized how quickly the end of the semester (ie. the multitude of giant end-of-semester projects and exams I'll have due) is coming up.


First, a quick note about stress. Last spring I was asked to give a devotional for the student leadership meeting at my student ministry and, it being about this time of the semester, I spoke about stress. Here's a quick rundown of what I said then (and what I keep reminding myself now).

Stress says two things: my problems are the most important things in the world, and my problems are too big for God to handle. The response to both is no, they're not. We all have problems, it's true. Some much bigger than others. But if you have the time and ability--spare time, access to the internet, ability to read--to read this or any other blog, you're probably doing alright in the grand scheme of things. And no, I'm not advocating the God-reaching-down-and-fixing-everything plan, though I won't discount it entirely, either. What I am saying is that God walks with us, even and especially when life gets hard. So stress, this tunnel vision on our own problems, is not at all how we are called to live. I know, it's a lot easier said than done (you should've seen me last week). But it's just a good reality check sometimes.


And now, the thing I'm actually really excited about writing about because I like making connections and thinking about random things.

I read an article online several months ago that I cannot find again for the life of me. I've spent hours looking for this thing in the months since I first read it, but with no luck. It was an article about youth who get into risky behaviors because they don't plan for future consequences; in the particular study I read, one thing that the majority of the youth in the study had in common was that their homes had no calendars. It was just a simple thing, and the study was by no means arguing that homes without calendars produce teens with substance abuse issues (at least not if my memory serves me). What they suggested as a possibility for part of the root of risk-taking behavior is a lack of future planning by the parents.

Now, this is all well and good, and it was an interesting article. What was more interesting for me, though, was thinking about calendars in general and how they affect our psyche.

Just about anyone will tell you that as you get older it seems like time goes by faster. Think about when you were really little. Summer lasted forever. The birthday party next weekend was a lifetime away. The time between now and snacktime was interminable and you were probably going to starve to death. Right? And think about now. Think about how it's almost April. Wasn't it just Christmas?! What happened? Where did three months go? And why do the four weeks between now and finals seem like the blink of an eye? What happened to all that time I had when I was a kid?

Granted, I did a lot less when I was little. I went to school. I came home. I did "homework"--and by homework I mean I colored a picture and did five addition problems. I ate. I played. I slept. Life was grand.

But then in middle school I was given this thing called The Agenda. Every student had The Agenda in their little school supply packet. It was orange and had a paw print on it (Go Hamilton Tigers!) and was full of inspirational quotes. The Agenda was all-powerful. We were required to write down our homework and then we were required to have our parents sign off on it. The Agenda was actually part of our grade.

And so keeping a calendar, a schedule, was slowly integrated into our lives. Sure, lots of us threw away The Agenda as soon as it was no longer a part of our grade, but eventually most of us realized that we actually did remember everything and get all of our assignments done better when we wrote it all down.

Then life got more complicated. We started having to plan things further and further out. Then we went to college and had to plan for ourselves, and without that calendar we wouldn't have survived. Then we became adults (supposedly). Now my planner is full of assignments for seminary, meetings and planning issues for work, birthdays, silly governmental things like taxes... it's full. It frightens me.

So yeah, as I've gotten older time seems like it goes faster. I've gotten busier. But I also care more about my time. I spend time thinking about time. I plan my time--way, way out in the future. If I lost my calendar I'd lose my mind.

Yeah, planning for the future is great. It's necessary. If I don't think about my future and how the things I do now will affect it, things can go very wrong very quickly. But think about when you were a kid. You were aware of the future. You knew things were coming up. But you didn't spend every other minute checking your planner to see when things were coming up. You knew that there was a birthday party and that it was next Saturday and that you wanted it to be next Saturday RIGHT NOW, but then you went back to doing whatever else you were doing and it didn't bother you. You weren't thinking, "Alright, I have a party planned for 8 days from now. Between now and then I have to get this, this, and this done, and as soon as the party is over I have to do this, this, and this..."

That kind of mindset helps us get things done, sure. But what kind of stress does it give us? The lists never end. You know they don't. There's always something to do, and something else to do once you do that first thing. Always. So there's always something hanging over your head.

What would happen if we threw away our calendars? If we acknowledged the future as a thing to be planned for as far as things like retirement and savings and credit card debt accrual go, but not a thing that needed to be planned out in minute detail as soon as possible. A thing that exists, but doesn't really need to concern us because we're not there yet and it'll still be there when we get there. If we only planned as far in advance as we can keep dates and deadlines in our heads, and just let the rest be.

It probably wouldn't work because that's not how our society works, but wouldn't it feel nice, just for a bit? I'm sure there are societies out there that do function like that, though. Maybe I'll just move there.