diary of a time rebel

Redefining time, one moment at a time.

I have a lot of time on my hands right now. In fact, I’m richer in time than I’ve ever been. Nothing constraining me, nothing dictating how I spend it except my own heart. It’s the greatest gift I’ve ever given myself, and it’s changing everything.

I remember knowing I needed this season. It was March of 2024, and I had just emerged from four particularly hard months. During that stretch, it felt like time didn’t belong to me. I needed it—desperately—but couldn’t let myself have it. I had to keep spinning on the hamster wheel. I’d been toying with the idea of quitting my job and traveling, but suddenly the daydream took shape. It stopped being a possibility and started becoming a promise. I put my head down and did what I needed to do to get what I deeply wanted: time.

I hadn’t returned to that moment until recently, when a conversation about time led me back to my journal. (Side note: if you haven’t yet discovered the joy of journaling, I highly recommend it. It’s like time travel— you can revisit past moments, thoughts, and feelings, exactly as they were.)

On March 29, 2024, I wrote:

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For the past several months, my mind has been fixated on the concept of time. We grow up measuring it in societally dictated ways: school years, holidays, 40 hour workweeks, performance reviews, annual rates of return. But to me, this never seemed to explain the relativity of time—how some moments and seasons can stretch endlessly while others flash by like watching a merry-go-round. We slice up our lives into time slots: time to eat, time to sleep, time to work, time to walk the dog. Time as obligation.

I think we’re all obsessed with time— worried there’s not enough of it, or silently begging for more hours in a day. I long for a more naive, childlike perception of time, before I could read an analog clock or comprehend a calendar. Back when time was intuitive. Wake when you're rested. Eat when you’re hungry. Play when you’re energized. Let time be self-defined: time to dance, time to grieve, time to feel, time to fight. Time as luxury.

To me, that kind of relationship with time represents freedom.

What would life be like without time dictating everything? Work when you want. Rest when you want. Celebrate when you feel joy. Reflect when you feel stillness. “How old are you?” a question never uttered. “Sorry I’m late” an apology never expressed. A life measured not in minutes or milestones, but in memories, in miracles, in moments.

I wish we lived in that world. Instead, we live in a world full of invisible timelines. Time to go to school. Time to get a job. Time to get married. Time to buy a house. Time to have kids. Time to retire. Time to…? We treat time like a checklist. And worse, we treat deviation from that checklist as failure. Like we are all living in fear of judgement over how we spend our time.

“Oh it took you 7 years to graduate?”
”You only spent a year at your last job?”
”You’re 30 and not married?”
”No Kids at 35?”
”Still working at 70?”

It saddens me to think this is what life is: counting down the days until your next vacation so you can live a time-less fantasy. That the dream of "having time" has become something we escape into rather than something we live in.

What’s the secret to being rich in time? I’m scared of being time-poor. Not to say that I’m afraid to die, because I’m not. Maybe, I’m afraid to live. Afraid of what I say I want most in this world: freedom. Is that why we’re all so obsessed with time? Maybe that’s why we structure it so rigidly. Why we have to organize it so neatly. Because true freedom—choosing how to live without guidelines—is terrifying. If we don’t measure and control time, how will we survive? What if it just… passes right through us?

We are an anxious, fearful society. Maybe what we need are more time rebels. People who shatter clocks and reject timelines. Who are never late, never early. Who never say “I don’t have enough time” or “That time has passed”. Who believe there’s no perfect time for anything—just a time for everything. Who are not afraid to define their own seasons and recognize that time is measured in “I love yous”, in getting lost and finding yourself again, in friendships made, in exquisite moments witnessed, in realized dreams, in failures, in laughter, in tears.

I never thought I’d be called to join a rebellion, but this one feels like a worthy cause.

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The other morning, I spent an hour watching sunlight shift across my bedroom wall. No agenda. No guilt. Just awe. I used to think of time as something I had to fight for. Now, it simply shows up, sits with me, and reminds me that the greatest luxury is being present.

walk boldly,

Caroline