One of the discoveries of growing older is the realization that time itself is extremely valuable. When one was younger, time seemed as plentiful as the atmosphere. It was there it was available and it seemed to last forever.
Then the milestone of forty kicked in and something triggered inside me. There are only twenty-four hours in a day and one needs to use them wisely.
Now in my case I know exactly the cause of this trigger. Essentially it was the onset of fatherhood that had ambushed me at thirty-seven and was redefining my persona with each passing moment. However it was only at forty that this realization became intellectually apparent.
Maybe I had blocked it out for a while but now in a brief respite I could contemplate what it truly was. It wasn’t time that was the problem but a deficiency of ‘me-time’ the opportunity to retreat and ‘be alone’ to charge one’s battery and escape even for a while the realities of adulthood.
Its not that this ‘me-time’ is better than any other time for most of my greatest moments are spent with my family but for somebody who is naturally introverted such ‘me-time’ is critical to my functioning. Supply it at the right amount and I function optimally on all fronts. Take it away and I cease to be the best version of Gavin that I can be.
So in a sense I place great value on ‘me-time’. It is currency in my life whose value seems to appreciate with age.
I am sure others feel the same way. It’s a healthy selfishness but one that when all said and done is extremely necessary
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