Chronophobia: how to overcome fear of time?
Fear of time pursue me since then from what I remember myself. It began in the early childhood when I heard as the grandmother spoke to mother: “The most incomprehensible was when I understood that I am thirty years old. How?! I am young! When it managed to happen?!“ to me it became suddenly terrible
: and me already whole seven and a half, and I finished the first class. To what it is a lot of! Since then my life turned into the real race: it was a pity for time for school, for lessons, for a bathtub, for a dream. And it was talked not of such rather widespread phobias as fear of a growing or an old age, or death - no, it was panic from the fact that I will not be in time, will not be able to come true in this life, to make something rather important.
Once I asked a question: and whether so I am unique, or similar feelings are familiar also to other people. Also it turned out that is not present at all. As demonstrated Google, a great number of young people in this or that form describe similar problems in the Internet - diaries and communities. Seniors share the fears about the fact that they made nothing in life yet; young people admit that they cannot sit down to have a rest as they are overcome by thoughts of what they lose precious minutes; that transition to the following class causes panic from - for transiences of time; note that time passes as though quicker than put. And, the main thing, appeal about the help: “What happens to me as it is called and how to live further?“ It also induced me to share how I managed to overcome fear of time and to begin to enjoy each moment of life.
Here it is necessary to tell that the heightened sense of time is often expressed in the acquaintance to much to a form of rejection of holidays, birthdays and even changes of seasons. So was also with me. Yes, it is strange to think: until recently I did not love winter. I was afraid of it. As, however, and falls. The arrival they reminded every time to me that time passes that one more year here expired, and I so managed to make in life a little, and very much still remained not made. Also it became terrible from consciousness in the evenings that one more day passed, and I was not in time again - che - go. “My God, give me time - only time, I will cope with the rest“, - such is there was my one and only prayer at that time.
Every year it seemed to me more and more that here still slightly - slightly - and the best time of my life will pass: there will pass cheerful youth, there will pass freedom, it is necessary to hide forever in a case favourite ripped jeans and to become “serious“. That is impossible, it is not necessary, at your age it is indecent … It seemed, ahead - only routine, monotonous work, a salary of the twenty fifth, standard feasts on holidays and two-week holiday in July, insignificant talks with neigbours on a shop - and boredom, boredom, boredom … And cultivation of children who will go the same road. It was terrible, it was empty, in soul - bewilderment: how, where why to live if ahead - nothing? Perhaps also it is absent - the future? Or I am not in it - so more definitely …
From where on what fluke of nature in consciousness of the twenty-year-old little girl there could be so hopeless picture of the world? Now it hardly matters. But, anyway, this fear with a special force overflowed me in the winter when days became even shorter, the clothes - are even more boring, and from - for snow it was necessary to hide my favourite bicycle till spring. Yes, I hated winter. “I do not live in the winter, I just sleep and I wait for summer“, - so I then spoke. And I hated time - I was afraid and with all the heart did not want … to become adult, seeing in it … well just the end of life. And this my eternal nightmare - - was winter for me as if a maturity embodiment - time when there is no life any more.
Here the world I lived in it several years. Yet understanding did not come: so it is impossible further, there has to be other life!... Year of search, year of throwings. Efforts to accept so many things which smothering refused to accept. There is so much attempt to overestimate. With so many to reconcile. Feeling that separate pieces me and my world begin to develop in something finished. New people, new occupations … New life. Real, adulthood which can be not so gray, but such colourful! The choice of specialty which surprised former acquaintances. In the winter - in an ice-hole, in the summer - in the sky with a parachute.
Probably, sometimes I behave “strange“, sometimes strange I put on … And I feel - happy. And here that surprisingly: it seems, people around see in me not the eccentric woman who was late in the childhood, but the interesting, self-sufficient and unusual person.
Here - that I also understood: what I so was afraid of, is not a maturity, not a maturity. It is aging. So often the person from youth so never “jumps“ directly in an old age, and without having felt harmony and completeness of a maturity, having managed to learn only small part of the world and himself - and not the brightest.
That day when, having decided “to make friends“ at last with a winter, I for the first time dived into an ice-hole, the winter stopped being for me a pause in life. It was not less bright and interesting, than summer. Just another. And now at all seasons of the year I understand: the winter will not be . Always everything will be, as well as now: happiness, life, movement, love, summer. Yes, the summer though on the earth, perhaps, snow will lie, instead of the beach will be an ice-hole, and instead of kayaks - mountain skiing …
And with age. The old age is when “I have to“ and “it not for me any more“. And the maturity is when you realize that each lived year only adds knowledge, understanding, interests, friends, opportunities, without taking away at the same time - che - go. When life is filled only with what you really love, - the become more senior, the more clearly understand, what a pity it “is necessary“ to spend time for all these empty and “it is so accepted“.
When you know: the world is huge, the world is boundless - it belongs to you. The most mad dreams, the most risky inventions, the most ambitious aspirations - everything is possible, and everything is available. When you are not afraid to make a step towads to the world and to let in the life New. When you dare to be “strange“ and “not as all“. When you just release yourself on freedom, spread wings, every day more and more move apart borders of the world and - live, live on all hundred. And then for you there comes the eternity …
Once I already was old. It appeared, it was not forever. At all it is not obligatory.
The winter will not be.