It’s interesting that those two words can be kind of interchangeable. When you’re exhausted, for example: using either of those two words means the exact same thing. When it comes to your time, however, the meaning shifts; Wasted time is time not used “properly”, whereas Spent time has been employed with efficiency, productivity, responsibility.
Either way, it’s gone.
Last night, I used my time in bed not sleeping. It was my own decision; I thought this morning that it might have been the sertraline – I have gone back up to a full tablet per day – but now I’m pretty sure that it was all just me. I had reasons for staying up, so I did.
Said reasons I will not go into, but it involves something that I wrote before I went to bed. I was so invested in it that I couldn’t put it down, even after I turned off my computer and the lights. Was the night wasted, or spent? Well I got about 3 hours sleep, and only after around 8 am, but I woke up feeling pretty awesome. Then today I went for an unusually brisk walk, forcing myself to push on when I was ready to give up and finding that, actually, I wanted to keep going after all, and when I got back home I was fucking wasted. Or spent. I still did some bicycle crunches, push-ups and one of the exercises my physio gave me to do for my knee. I was well and truly wasted/spent by then. In fact I’d say wasted specifically, because it connotes a more intense state or effect. I was wasted.
And it felt like the most productive thing I’ve done in a very long time.
I have been feeling weird every since I started taking sertraline. I’ve been feeling kind of empty today. Insatiable. It’s not that I’m hungry – and I’m actively trying to watch what I eat this year – it’s more that there’s so many things that I haven’t done, or tried to do, and the wasted potential is eating me up from the inside.
Spent potential? I guess it is; I spent it on avoidance, panic, anxiety. Not by choice with those second two. The decision to not do something is still a decision. I have spent my life avoiding things so that I don’t run up against the wall of my anxiety. That’s something I’ve done. It’s why I keep doing it. If I’d wasted my life, then I wouldn’t do anything at all. I’d be dead or something.
Right now, I’m trying to write. It’s not happening, because nothing feels quite satisfying. Is this time being wasted, or spent? What on?
I don’t know that I can come up with the answer. But I do know that words matter. It’s why I write. It’s why I get frustrated with my writing, because the words often aren’t what I want them to be. It’s why I love writing, because words make things matter, no matter what they are.
Words are too powerful to be taken for granted.
So when you’re thinking that you’re wasting your time, try to think of how you’ve been spending it instead. It might change a few things for the better.