The perennial problem.

Everyone over the age of 21 complains about. Or so it seems. I was an early starter, I started complaining about it at the age of 17. Time. It just goes too gosh darned fast!

This time last year, as I prepared myself for the horrific fate of being apart from my darling partner for a whole year, I thought that SURELY 2006 would be the slowest year of my life. Well, no, actually it wasn't. Not only that but it wasn't a horrific fate being separated from my partner for a year. In fact it was very manageable. Not enjoyable, but definitely manageable.

Anyway, I find myself here, yet again agog at "how fast time has gone by" and spouting such awful cliches as "where has the year gone to already". But it's true! I hate to be unoriginal in my observations but time honestly gets faster as you progress in years. Already, at 24 years old, it seems fast.

So this is our perennial problem. Everyone complains about it, it doesn't get any better as you get older and there really is nothing you can do about the passing of time. It's going to keep going whether or not you like it. But maybe there is something we can do to assuage this feeling of being robbed of our precious time. Maybe, instead of constantly being head down, butt up, busy busy busy, we can allocate time to myself to just sit for a while every so often.

I personally think that this is really important, especially for my mental health. I have always needed space to myself, but more and more, as demands on my time increase, it has become absolutely necessary for my survival. I need a decent period of time every so often to faff about, stare into space or just do nothing of real consequence. I need to escape the constant "should" mantra that keeps chanting on in my head. You know the one: "You should exercise more, you should be studying, you should finish that email to Bob..." But never does it say "You should relax". That's something you need to fight for and claim for yourself.

Luckily, I have a wonderful man who (even from a distance) keeps reminding me to take on less and sit back and relax more often. I'm pretty sure that without him I would be a gibbering wreck in some corner, rocking back and forth wild-eyed, repeating over and over "I should... I should..."

The "shoulds" of this world can drown you. But it's only if you let them.

Just keep running...

I ran the Auckland "Round the Bays" fun run yesterday.

When I look at that sentence, I realise that the words that truly should be in inverted commas are the words fun run. Is there really such a thing? Sure some people have fun running but I can't say that I had much fun yesterday whilst running. I sure achieved something though. 8.4km is the furthest I have ever run continuously in my life. And it hurt doing it.

Actually it shouldn't have hurt so much. I regularly run 6km, so you wouldn't think that an extra 2.4km would be so bad. And normally it wouldn't but when you're used to running in the evening and you only had a banana for breakfast... Well you know.

I would like to get to the stage where I can run 10km without too many issues at any time of the day though. That's my next goal. You know, on the way to my crazy, insane, seemingly unreachable goal of me running the half marathon in October. I honestly have no idea how on earth I will do that but it'll be interesting trying.

Interesting. Another word that needs to be in inverted commas.

Were did that come from?

I had a blind siding revelation last night. After years of declaring that I am not the maternal type, I discovered that in fact I am the maternal type. One that wants kids. What on earth happened? One minute I am trundling along in life, thinking smugly to myself that I am free of that responsibility and my life is my own and then KAPOW. Not so much.

I actually found myself wondering what it would be like to have a little person to care for, love, educate, look out for. And I found myself thinking that it sounded like something that I wanted to do. Like a burning inside of my being had been lit - the maternal spark if you will.

So what, many people may think. Millions of women have been having babies for millions of years. This is true. But the realisation that you are at a stage in your life when you think you are ready for motherhood should be worthy of some note, surely?

It was for me. The concept, and the physical and psychological and financial details, of parenthood still terrify me immensely, but the desire to have a crumpled and pinkish little bundle of joy snuggled in my arms is fast overtaking this fear. And I honestly have no clue where this desire came from.

You could argue it's 'natural', you could argue that it's socialised, but frankly, right now that doesn't matter so much for me. This unbidden maternal spark has been lit within me and no amount of reading Sylvia Plath is putting it out. It might just be a good thing.

I'm not sure. I haven't decided yet.

The here and now

I'm sat here, wide-eyed, staring tomorrow in the face. Fear and dread incapacitate me but I can't look away. It's there and it's not going away. What am I scared of losing?

Now.

I'm scared of losing 'now' and all its quiet cosy comforts that envelope me like a warm blanket. I'm scared of leaving and not being able to come back. I'm scared of change and falling from an unknown height onto an unknown landscape. I'm scared of losing that familiar feeling of home and belonging.

Sometimes I wish I could freeze frame today and snuggle inside now forever.