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Poppy wants to live in a world where everyone's story matters, regardless of their income or way of life.

As a photographer, she's won ribbons at the county fair. As a spiritual seeker and writer, she's been featured in Jen Louden's The Life Organizer and once published an article at allthingsgirl.net.

When she's not writing or photographing her story, she can be found at her day job as a technology consultant, or at home snuggling her cats, or in the park, taking a walk with her husband.

H&H: Clock-watcher's Edition

This week, I'm back to thinking about time. Specifically, about how there's never enough of it.

I took a week off in December. It was GLORRRRRRIOUS to get to get up when I wanted, go to bed when I wanted, take a random nap in the middle of the day if I needed one, and spend an hour and a half doing yoga if that's what seemed like fun. Anytime I wanted.

Of course, it was the middle of the holidays, so it wasn't ALL pre-school. There were days when I had to be up at a certain time to do something, and there were days when I had to go to bed early so that I could be up the following morning. But for the most part, my time was flexible, and where I ran out of time or felt like time (and several years of my life!) had been sucked out of me, I could usually point to something I had decided that had caused it. Frequently, it was choosing to spend that time with someone who has more spoons than I do and who is not conscious of the spoon-level of her companions. Ahem.

And then I went back to work, and it felt like the hardest thing I've done in a month. Still does, a week later. There is no longer time for an afternoon nap if I need one. There is no hour free for yoga and tea in mid-morning. There is getting up, doing chores, getting dressed, spending several hours working on other people's problems, fixing dinner, and sleeping.

Worse, there's no time for introversion, for reflection, for doing some loving thinking about how I could change this Time pattern. And that's because there's a fuzzy little monster on my back, yelling "NO TIME! NO TIME!"

Huh. That's the first time I've seen THAT GUY. Clearly, I mean. I'm so used to him being there, I thought he was just, you know, me. But now that I know he is there, I can talk to him. I can color him. I can give him a hug (if he wants one) and tell him I know there's no time. And then I can acknowledge his sidekick, the little monster who REALLY wants me to know that anytime I talk about my Time problem, I'm just whining and should really shut up already. And maybe offer that little guy a hug, too.

H&H: Year of the Voice

H&H: Silent Retreat!