Aanya J | March 09, 2025
A Dance with Time : Shifting Goalposts of Waiting in Personal Relationships
Waiting in relationships can feel like an exhausting game of tug-of-war. Some people seek more time with you, craving closeness, while others retreat, erecting walls and asking for distance. This constant shift in expectations can feel disorienting, leading us to question whether we’re enough or if time itself is a tool of power dynamics in relationships. But what if the essence of this waiting game wasn’t about others at all? What if it was a lesson in our own relationship with time, control, and the self?
Albert Einstein famously said, “Time is an illusion.” In personal relationships, time often becomes a proxy for control—whether we’re making others wait or being made to wait ourselves. At its core, waiting symbolizes a deeper struggle for power and autonomy. The psychology of control explains this well: when people feel uncertain or insecure, they often seek ways to assert control over others. Making someone wait—whether by withholding affection, attention, or communication—creates a temporary illusion of power.
From a trauma-informed perspective, this dynamic is even more profound. For individuals with histories of neglect or abandonment, waiting can trigger deep-seated fears of rejection or being unworthy. It’s no wonder that waiting feels like a battlefield for the heart, where time is both the weapon and the wound.
Yet, in trying to control time, we expose its illusory nature. Time cannot be tamed; it moves independently of our desires, like a river flowing endlessly toward an unseen horizon. Recognizing this illusion is the first step in freeing ourselves from the emotional toll of waiting.
Time is not linear; it is cyclic. Ancient wisdom across cultures—from Vedic philosophy to Indigenous traditions—emphasizes the rhythmic, cyclical nature of existence. Similarly, in relationships, emotions like impatience and impulsiveness mimic the rise and fall of ocean waves. These waves keep relationships alive, infusing them with movement and energy. Without this ebb and flow, relationships would stagnate, sinking into the abyss of indifference.
From a psychological standpoint, this cyclic nature aligns with the theory of emotional regulation. Emotions are not static; they arise, peak, and eventually subside. The same applies to our experiences of waiting and longing. When we accept the natural rhythms of relationships, we create space for grace and resilience to emerge.
In practical terms, this might look like asking yourself: What step can I take in this moment? Waiting often feels unbearable because it immobilizes us. Taking even the smallest step—whether it’s communicating honestly or engaging in self-care—can break the illusion of helplessness and restore a sense of agency.
In the face of waiting, the most powerful antidote is grace—a state of inner calm and acceptance—and self-belief. When someone makes us feel small or insignificant, it’s often a reflection of their own struggles, not our worth. Believing in our inherent value, regardless of external validation, shields us from the emotional manipulation that often underpins waiting games.
This concept aligns with attachment theory, which explores how our early relationships shape our ability to navigate intimacy and separation. Securely attached individuals are more likely to trust their own worth, even when faced with uncertainty or rejection. On the other hand, those with anxious or avoidant attachment styles may struggle with waiting, interpreting it as a sign of disconnection or abandonment.
Practicing self-compassion can help bridge these gaps. When we remind ourselves that we are enough, we dismantle the illusion of time as a measure of our value. Instead, we become like the butterfly in Chaos Theory, whose seemingly small actions—acts of self-care, moments of kindness—create ripples of change in the vast interconnected web of existence.
We personify time, giving it “hands” and imagining it as a benevolent or cruel force. We race against it, beg for more of it, and curse it when it slips through our fingers. Through astrology and ritual, we try to decode its mysteries, hoping to gain some measure of control. Yet, how often do we truly trust time? How often do we allow it to unfold without resistance?
The truth is, our relationship with time mirrors our relationship with ourselves. When we feel disconnected or unworthy, time becomes an adversary, a constant reminder of what we lack. Conversely, when we embrace our inherent value, time transforms into an ally—a space for growth, healing, and connection.
In narrative therapy, this concept is often explored through the stories we tell about our lives. Reframing the narrative—from “I’m stuck waiting” to “I’m choosing patience and presence”—can shift our emotional experience of time. By seeing time as a companion rather than a constraint, we open ourselves to its gifts.
In Vedic philosophy, the dual meanings of Kaal—time and darkness—reveal a profound truth: time is inseparable from the unknown. Just as Kaali, the goddess of time and transformation, embodies both destruction and creation, time holds the power to unravel and rebuild. This duality is mirrored in modern astrophysics, where dark matter constitutes the majority of the universe, shaping its structure while remaining largely invisible.
Psychologically, this interplay of time and darkness invites us to confront our fears and uncertainties. Carl Jung’s concept of the shadow self is particularly relevant here. The shadow represents the parts of ourselves we suppress or deny, often out of fear or shame. In relationships, waiting can bring these shadows to the surface, challenging us to face our insecurities and grow beyond them.
Surrendering to the magnificence of time—acknowledging its mystery and power—requires courage. It means letting go of the need to control outcomes and trusting in the process of life. As Kaali teaches, destruction is not the end; it is the beginning of transformation.
In a world that glorifies productivity and certainty, surrender can feel like defeat. Yet, surrendering to time is not about giving up; it’s about letting go of resistance. This act of surrender aligns with mindfulness practices, which emphasize presence and acceptance as pathways to peace.
When we stop fighting time—trying to speed it up or slow it down—we discover the freedom to simply be. In relationships, this might mean accepting that some people will move closer while others drift away. It’s not a reflection of our worth but of the natural rhythms of connection and change.
While philosophical insights provide a foundation for understanding waiting, practical strategies can help us navigate it with grace:
Reframe the Narrative: Shift your perspective from “I’m waiting for them” to “I’m choosing to honor my time.” This empowers you to take control of your experience.
Set Boundaries: Waiting often becomes toxic when it lacks clear expectations. Communicate your needs and boundaries, ensuring mutual respect in the relationship.
Engage in Meaningful Activities: Use the waiting period as an opportunity for self-growth, creativity, or connection with others. This transforms waiting from a passive state to an active one.
Practice Self-Compassion: Remind yourself that waiting is not a reflection of your worth. Treat yourself with kindness, acknowledging the challenges you’re navigating.
Seek Support: Whether through therapy, friendships, or community, sharing your experience can provide comfort and perspective.
Waiting in relationships is not just about time; it’s about power, connection, and the stories we tell ourselves. By reframing our relationship with time—seeing it as a companion rather than an adversary—we free ourselves from the illusion of control. Like Kaali, we learn to embrace the darkness and the light, trusting in the transformative power of time.
In the end, the question is not whether we will wait but how we will wait. Will we resist the currents of time, or will we surrender to its flow, stepping forward with grace, self-belief, and the quiet assurance that we are enough? The choice is ours, and in that choice lies our greatest power.