A long, stretchy summer
Various shapes of clouds in a bright blue sky.
In my adult life, for as many years as I can remember, I've lamented about time — especially summers — passing by too quickly.
It wasn’t always this way. When I was a child, summers felt dreadfully long. I wasn't allowed to see my friends so my only companion was my father, who was usually in the other room, immersed in his work. I recall flashes of little-me passing the time with my face turned to the TV. We didn’t have cable so my selection was limited — Jeopardy at age 8, baseball at age 10, a VHS tape of The Princess Bride at age 12.
It was only when I became an adult that I started looking forward to July and August. Once I had the freedom to do the things I wanted, to go out and enjoy myself, summers always felt too short.
This year, something strange happened. It was only June 28th, but my brain was telling me that summer was almost over. Maybe it was the sudden stretch of hot, humid weather that tricked me into thinking it was August already. But it was only the end of June, so I still had the entire summer ahead of me. It was a full and spacious feeling. And it felt marvellous.
I don't remember ever feeling that way, so naturally I was curious — especially since the feeling came up again and again over the next couple of months. What’s causing time to feel more stretched out for me this season? What’s allowing me to feel so much spaciousness this summer? I came up with three possible explanations.
1. I’m not working on any projects.
I don't consider myself to be ambitious but I'm very driven. In the past several years, I’ve been singularly focused on my book — writing it, beta testing it, going through it as a reader. Every spare moment, and every spare thought, was earmarked for my book. I felt an urgency around it, an inner compulsion to see the project through to completion.
This summer has not only been devoid of big projects, I’ve also let go of a lot of the “shoulds” around needing to be working on something, anything. I realized my self-worth has been overly tied to accomplishment — I’m talking all tangled up like a messy, chaotic ball of yarn. I’ve been able to loosen some of these knots this summer. Sure, there were a few things I wanted to work on (for example, I’m doing an exercise a month from my book, which has been such a joy) — but these have felt lighter and less urgent.
Since I’m not striving toward achievement, I have more time to be bored, to meander, to tune in to what I want to do next. And on that note…
2. I’m listening to myself.
My book trained me well. I’m paying more attention to the little decisions in my life — what I feel like eating, what I’m in the mood to read, how I want to move my body. I’m tuning in to my appetite, my curiosity, my energy levels, the list goes on. And as importantly, I’m respecting what they tell me.
This means every day can be very different. I wake up with a rough plan but I approach my calendar with a penciled-in mentality. I no longer force myself to get 10,000 steps a day. If I don’t feel like making dinner, we’ll grab some takeout. If I feel like spending the entire evening playing a game on my iPad, I’ll do just that. These are all very ordinary things, yes — but I used to be rigid and absolute when it came to my routines. (Those pesky “shoulds” again!)
The variety in my days — made possible by respecting what I truly want in the moment — helps the summer seem both more full and more joyful. And finally, listening to myself is easier when…
3. I’m giving myself grace.
I’ve been giving myself a lot of permission this summer. I often tell myself that I don't have to do anything but I can choose to. For example:
Permission to rest. I don't have to go to the gym but I can choose to because I'm in the middle of a great book and I enjoy reading on the exercise bike.
Permission to leave things unfinished. I don't have to finish that huge dessert but I can choose to because it’s delicious and I’m not quite full yet. (I’m using a food example here as I can’t stand wasting food and still feel compelled to finish every last bite — but I generally love finishing things and will often push myself past the point of enjoyment.)
Permission to deviate from routine. I don't have to write a blog post but I can choose to because writing helps me make sense of my thoughts. (I also don’t have to post it on the 23rd just because I usually do. I can choose to post it a week later. 😉)
It took me 47 years to become softer, gentler, and more compassionate with myself. My inner critic and inner best friend have reached a partnership. They're still ever present but my inner critic isn't dominating the conversation anymore. She knows that she can speak her mind but that I may reject her opinion. She rarely has the power to change my behaviour anymore. Instead, her voice is just one of the many inputs I can choose to listen to or ignore.
I’m finally releasing all my lingering “shoulds” — and this has made the summer feel remarkably easy and free of internal pressure.
Even though this post is about summer, I’ve been working on untangling my knotted up ball of yarn for years. These days, my inner trajectory is the one I prioritize.
Now that we're approaching the end of August, I can no longer say it feels like I still have the entire summer ahead of me. But I can say this: This season has felt long and full, and — despite all the pain and uncertainty that’s prevalent in the world, not to mention all the usual ups and downs we experience as humans — it has felt like a summer well-lived.
This month’s reflective questions
What are some of the moments when time has felt stretched out for you? What were some of the factors that might have contributed to the feeling of spaciousness? How can you replicate for yourself the feeling of time well-lived?
Stretching through time,
