On Time Anxiety

Reframing one branch of life's worries

Photo by Kenny Eliason

It is worth noting before getting into the complicated topic of anxiety that there are real, physiological and medical realities that underpin excessive amounts of anxiety. For many, especially those experiencing clinical anxiety, addressing and overcoming anxiety is not as easy as meditating and exercising— in no way does the following essay attempt to make this claim. Rather, this is to offer a perspective on one aspect of anxiety to, hopefully, expand upon the tools accessible to you as you navigate the spectrum of your own anxieties. If anything, I hope that it adds another voice to the chorus saying I, you, we are not alone in the struggle.

Anxiety is a constant pressure in human consciousness.  It binds us up, weighing down the human spirit in our increasingly postmodern world. But what is anxiety? Where does it come from? And why does addressing it feel like such a hopeless fight?

At its biological root, anxiety is a byproduct of evolution.  It is not inherently good or evil— it is simply a byproduct of the development of consciousness in the human brain. One of the major sources of anxiety, time, is simply a result of evolution’s determination that the dual abilities to plan for the future and remember the past are the gateway to homo sapiens’ survival and reproduction. 

Broadly, time anxiety as a mental process can be boiled down to one of two things: worrying about the future or ruminating about the past. Think of a time that you were anxious, whether it was the Sunday scaries as you dreaded the coming week, worrying about a decision you made that might have been a mistake, or feeling the pressure of unhealed relationships. In all of these situations, you were envisioning the future, which had not yet occurred, or were trapped in the past, which cannot be changed.

All of these practical, real-world anxieties over time come from one larger parent anxiety that constantly frames your past and future— the fear of time running out. The constant ticking of the clock in the back of your mind, reminding you that there is a limit to what can be done in a lifetime.

Time itself is the manifestation of the evolutional capability to plan and remember— without time, there is no fear of death. 

But we have time, and so too a constant opponent.  The Stoic philosopher Seneca explains in his treatise On the Shortness of Life that death not only lies ahead, but is constantly nipping at our heels:

The final hour when we cease to exist does not itself bring death; it merely of itself completes the death-process. We reach death at that moment, but we have been a long time on the way.

This fear of time loss and time running out results in a steady source of one of the anxieties that underpins our existence.  Many have sought to provide solace to this fact, offering explanations of the nature of death and sometimes promising life after death.  Others have sought to explain the meaning of life in the here and now, without offering an answer to this final question.

Both fall short. They can, in good measure, provide a road map on how to live. The Stoics practiced memento mori, or “remembering death,” to give a true north to life, always keeping the reality of death in mind to guide actions at every moment. But ultimately, this is lacking in that it doesn’t consistently bring peace to the present— sometimes, the feeling of time is too strong.

But that is where the truth lies— in those moments. Anxiety is not always something to be combated, nor is death the ever-triumphant enemy. Rather, anxiety is a natural part of life, and it is okay for that to be too much sometimes. To “give in.” Philosophy can provide vital tools to take action in life, but the reality of the human condition will always win out— and that’s okay. 

There is no sure fire solution to time anxiety— it is part of being human. The ending gives meaning to the journey. The love we give, the experiences we have, the choices we make in the present moment are all made meaningful knowing that they come in limited supply.

We can’t free ourselves completely from time wearing us down, but we can save energy by approaching it differently. By living with it instead of fighting it. By validating and understanding the reality of it while working for, instead of fighting against, ourselves.

The shift from fighting to being is instrumental in leading a well-rounded existence.

Edited by Jeremy Harr and Abigail McKay Cherry

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