Earlier this year, I had the chance to take a six-week sabbatical from work. The lead-up felt like one long slow-motion scene: plenty of work to finish, but all I could notice was how far away that first day seemed. When the sabbatical actually arrived—well, it went by surprisingly fast. One week bled into the next, and viola 6 weeks vanished, I was back at my desk. It left me wondering: why does time drag sometimes, and race at others? Can we do anything about that?

From what I’ve read, there’s actually a name for this: psychologists call it the Attentional Gate Model. The gist is that time isn’t felt the same for everyone, or even by the same person in different moments. The more you focus on the minutes crawling by, the slower they seem to go. The more your attention is absorbed elsewhere, the quicker time feels.

What’s interesting is how universal—and quietly disruptive—this can be. Maybe it’s waiting for a project launch, or sitting through a slow Thursday, or just trying to get through a tough season in life. If you notice yourself either grinding your teeth through the slowness or surprised at how little you managed to savor a good stretch, you’re not broken. You’re normal.

It turns out that studies have found people’s time perception is strongly linked to where their attention goes.

In one classic experiment, folks asked to track passing seconds rated durations as longer than those who were kept distracted. More recent neuroscience research shows that when we’re engaged, the regions of our brain responsible for tracking time sit quietly in the background; when we’re waiting or anxious, those same circuits go on high alert and amplify every tick.

Personally, I started paying more attention to when I was “watching the clock” versus absorbed in something. If my friend texted they’d be ten minutes late, I’d reach for a YouTube video I liked rather than stare at the door. On longer waits—like big career milestones—I tried to stay rooted in daily projects, letting myself notice progress without always obsessing over the finish line.

The benefit isn’t just feeling less impatient. There’s growing evidence that constantly monitoring time, especially when it’s tied to anticipation or anxiety, can actually fuel stress, make work feel harder, and reduce our ability to recover between tasks. Researchers from institutions like Liverpool John Moores University and the University of Haifa have shown that when people become less focused on elapsed time and more engaged in meaningful activities, not only do they feel better, but their performance and satisfaction improve, too. Emotions change our perception of time – as seen in The Traitors | Liverpool John Moores University 

I know “hack” gets overused, and I’m not sure this even qualifies as one. Maybe it’s more of a shift—a nudge to notice that your relationship to time is changeable. Personally, I started paying more attention to when I was “watching the clock” versus absorbed in something. Here are a few specific strategies that worked for me:

• The Ten-Minute Rule: If my friend texted they’d be ten minutes late, I’d reach for a YouTube video I genuinely enjoyed rather than stare at the door. Those ten minutes would pass almost unnoticed.

• The Daily Progress Ritual: On longer waits—like big career milestones—I tried to stay rooted in daily projects. I kept a small notebook where I’d jot down one thing I accomplished each day, letting myself notice progress without always obsessing over the finish line.

• The Absorption Test: I started noticing which activities made me completely lose track of time. For me, it was cooking elaborate meals and having deep conversations with friends. I began scheduling more of these “time warp” activities during stressful waiting periods.

There’s probably no way to fully control time’s weird stretches and sprints. But for me, noticing the gate—and nudging it closed now and then—has meant less waiting, more living, and, on occasion, a better way of being in the time I actually have.