Numbers retired from my life many years ago and I began living from blocks of energy instead of blocks of the clock.
The strange thing about such retirement is that I’m often alone in my perception of time and so statements such as “I can’t attend your gathering this evening because I’m going for lunch tomorrow” and “I’m meeting a friend on Wednesday, so I won’t be able to visit you on Saturday” are met with odd shaped brows.
How is it possible to explain to someone whose full use of the clock, means they sleep at most eight hours a night and use the other sixteen hours proactively, or should I say, actively.
In my world there are the addition of good days and the subtraction of bad days, all of them divided between weeks.
Good days are when I wake from my twelve to fourteen hour sleep knowing I can work within my limitations, knowing I can cope with activities such as making meals, washing dishes, checking on the fauna and flora within my garden, doing an odd bit of weeding and light gardening or taking to my laptop to write (gardening and writing never occur in the one day. Gardening wins on a good body day and writing on a good brain day) and every once in a while I add in a visit to a friend, or have a visit from a friend.
That’s my energy clock.
Each activity broken up into segments, allowing me periods of rest in between. Rest where I sit outside or by a window, rest where I meditate or sit in complete silence.
On the bad days, I shuffle about. I survive.
There are the bad body days when I drag myself to the kitchen for meals and back to my couch and then there are the bad brain days, when thinking is an effort and I struggle with logic on stop.
Until those within my entire world share my good and bad days first hand, I’m left smiling at those strange brows, facing their strange clock, telling people “Sorry, I must decline your invite today because I have a planned meeting in three days time!” (The sadistic part of me enjoying their reaction and bewilderment).