Every so often a quote will grab me by the collar. Well, that’s not entirely true since I am so into comfort these days that I’d be hard pressed to find a shirt stretchy enough that includes an actual collar, but you get the idea.

 

The right combination of words uttered in my presence at the precise time I am ready to hear them disrupts, excites, and transforms me.

 

For at least a week.

 

I find it so odd that my attachment to such wisdom can wane over time, requiring me to need to learn the lesson all over again. How can it be, for example, that I learned that two plus two equals four in kindergarten and have not once needed a reminder, but the fact that life is finite and anything I want to do I should get busy doing needs reminding?

 

The most recent instance of this latter kind of learning came to me courtesy of the author Ann Lamott. She was appearing live in my community on International Women’s Day and some friends and I went to hear her speak. She quoted famous women like Gloria Steinem whose work and words have influenced her over the years, but it was the story she told about the impact a close friend had on her that continues to bounce around my brain a full month later.

 

When Ann was in her mid-forties, her best friend was undergoing chemotherapy. She was confined to a wheelchair and wearing a wig when Ann invited her to go shopping. They were together inside a Macy’s dressing room as Ann tried on dresses she might wear on a date. Instead of her usual loose-fitting, comfortable style, she selected a dress that was unusually form-fitting. She felt self-conscious about how the dress hugged her legs and asked her friend, “Does this make my thighs look big?” The friend looked up at her from the wheelchair and said plainly, “You don’t have time for that.”

 

You. Don’t. Have. Time. For. That.

 

This is the current phrase-that-pays for me during these past few weeks. I’m thinking so hard on it that I hope it transitions into the same one-and-done knowing that “two plus two” once did in my brain.

 

Already, it has talked me out of some critical self-talk after seeing the photos of me captured on Easter. Instead of focusing on my full face and round belly in the pictures, I was able to lend my attention to the blue skies freshly washed by rain, my thriving flowerbeds, and the proof of joy in the faces of our family members during the egg hunt after the lovely lunch we shared around my festive spring table.

 

I was able to think like this because I do not have time to tarnish my memories of a beautiful day with even a second of self-loathing.

 

Already, it has allowed me to dare to launch a podcast with a friend in a very crowded space filled with celebrities and established shows with large followings. It would be (and has been) so easy to say Why bother trying this, Shana. Who has time to listen to little old you when there is already so much content in the world to consume? But it turns out that I can actually talk back to myself to say things like, Why not give it a try? Why not enjoy the juicy conversations? What if you make a few new connections from this pursuit that make your life feel more purpose-filled and dynamic? What if this feels like not just enough but plenty for you?

 

I was able to disrupt my scarcity thinking because I do not have time to let the reaction (or lack of reaction) of others impede my opportunity to feel dynamic.

 

Already, this quote has inspired me to hire a book coach who will read my manuscript and see how it might be improved to better position it for publication. Just by the act of hiring her, I have been able to go back and do the part of the writing process that I avoid when left without accountability: the editing. To send my story to a stranger who has qualifications that I do not and who will likely have so many suggestions for its improvement that I will feel discouraged when I see them all is basically a guarantee.

 

But I sent off my manuscript for scrutiny because I do not have time to let my ego dodge the kind of feedback that will help me grow in the ways I crave.

 

Already, this quote has helped me take a stand where my silence would have made fewer waves. At a recent event, my daughters were both treated with disrespect. One was insulted by having her appearance criticized and the other was sexualized, both by an older man who was present. The old me would have continued to give the man a pass for the sake of keeping things pleasant socially, just like I have always done and my mom always did before me. The new me spoke up to the hosts about our family not participating in future events that include this man.

 

I did this because I do not have time to prioritize the reactions of entitled men at the expense of my daughters’ sense of comfort and safety when trying to create a family dynamic that makes its members excited to gather instead of dreading it.

 

By doing all of this… by challenging my family’s generational norms, disrupting my own patterns of self-criticism, and putting my work and myself out into a world that values viral views and followings despite my having neither, I am starting to make my time here count in the ways that matter to this version of me.