How to Heal from the Fear of Time

1. Remove the irritant.  

Who said you can’t live at your own pace? If your biological clock is tuned to a late wake-up, it makes no sense to drag yourself to the office at 8 a.m. with owl-like eyes. Move your alarm! There are other work schedules. Less time-related stress—higher KPI.

So-called chronophages—“time-eaters”—also look frightening. Do chatty colleagues at endless “quick meetings” steal your precious seconds? Don’t let yourself be devoured! There are other workplaces where time management still exists.

If time markers have become strong irritants, try eliminating them: don’t wear a watch, don’t cry over teenage photos where everyone was different, better, younger.

2. Live to the fullest.

Fear is an emotion. Surprise is also an emotion. It’s more useful to be surprised than afraid. Instead of nostalgically recalling last year’s vacation, set off on a new route. Let it be something more budget-friendly if circumstances demand it. Replace the fear that “this will never happen again” with the thrill of a brand new adventure. A captivating life in the format of “here and now” beats with the very key that unlocks the most comfortable time dimension—the boundless present.

3. Break chronological patterns.

Napoleon mastered this method well: he made grand plans and managed to do a lot. His black time hole was the meal. The Emperor “cancelled” lunch “by schedule” and the chronological order of dishes. He often skipped meals. He didn’t find it strange to return to dessert after soup. Presumably, the oppressive thought that he might “run out of time” for dessert never crossed his mind.

4. Visualize eternity.

Highly recommended for grounding. You have every right to be skeptical about Eastern teachings on reincarnation—the post-mortem migration of the soul into a new body. It’s indeed hard to believe that a free-spirited artist was a successful auditor in a previous life, especially without evidence. Nevertheless, eternity is real, including its material form. Look at ancient statues, listen to Mozart. A session of timeless retreat can calm a panic attack brought on by a relentlessly ticking clock.

We understand that some of these solutions have a clear “plantain leaf effect”—they work more like a placebo. If you’ve eaten a Napoleon pastry before the cutlet, accompanied by Turkish March, and your fear of time hasn’t disappeared, we offer you some technological solutions. 

1. Reconstruct your family tree.

Refresh your genetic memory. This phenomenon, studied by Carl Jung, reveals the contents of the deepest memories. Life experience is passed down from generation to generation and preserved on a subconscious level. Under hypnosis, it’s sometimes possible to extract information about distant ancestors.

We suggest restoring such valuable information “with a guarantee” and without hypnosis by building a genealogical tree. You can grow it on specialized online platforms that allow you to involve relatives in the process. Notably, the concept of a family tree easily fits into different formats: a block diagram, a house, a sunflower. Yet the acceptance of the tree as the basic model is deeply symbolic. Its metaphorical associations—roots-as-past feeding the trunk-as-present and the endless crown-as-future—embody the pattern of ongoing life growth. If you wait out a panic attack under such a tree, the fear of the finiteness of time will retreat.

2. Become an honorary donor.

Mozart left behind Turkish March, Napoleon—a layered pastry. We, too, instead of mourning a first gray hair or fleeting youth, might consider extending life to the mark “infinity.” Donorship is a ready-made solution. The path is not easy, but reliable. Through donations of blood and its components, bone marrow, or reproductive material, you blur the boundaries of your own straightforward biography marked by two specific dates. Your cells “wander,” continuing their paths in other “hosts.” Infinitely.

3. Play.

Play games that flip your everyday perception of time. The very perception that usually fits into periods like “Monday morning” or “lunch break.”

Step beyond the perimeter of today. For example—into antiquity. Modern augmented-reality technologies allow you to fully disconnect from “here and now.” What you will feel (spoiler: anything but fear of time) is described by Victor Pelevin in Journey to Eleusis. A neural network simulation of 3rd-century Rome allows complete immersion in another era. In a state of “quasi-antique trance,” characters step outside the time grid of the present. Pausing your relationship with subjective time through simulation games is a promising homeopathic treatment for those who always lose in the race against the clock.

4. Go to psychotherapy.

Yes, back on the couch. There is no alternative if your irrational worries about time slipping through your fingers like sand have grown into chronophobia. A persistent, hypertrophied fear of time is treated with several methods: from identifying faulty beliefs (cognitive-behavioral therapy) to therapeutic immersion into fear (exposure therapy). As emergency care, breathing exercises are used. Medication-based “anesthesia” is possible only under strict medical supervision. Self-medication risks addiction and relapse.

Feeling better now? Ready to wait for the courier for another N-amount of time? Excellent! That’s exactly what we wanted.