Pleasant Unexpected Surprises — a Story about Patience
What has been your experience with pleasant unexpected surprises?
In seeking one source to interview for writing project on the topic of problems, emotions, patience and solutions, I received close to two handfuls of replies. I had to make some difficult decisions to narrow down the list. Ultimately I chose five people.
One of them was Milana Perepyolkina, who surprised me by sharing a piece of one of her books, that spoke to the topic. While it was a different angle than I had in my mind, it captured me in a wonderful way.
The storytelling and writing grabbed my attention and wouldn’t let go and I thought, who else who doesn’t know of her might enjoy this too? I inquired if I could share her work and she kindly granted permission.
With that professional courtesy, I am sharing the segment below that speaks on patience. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
Perepyolkina’s book titles are listed at the bottom of this post.
Here is a wonderful taste of her experiences, storytelling and writing:
During my childhood I spent a lot of time standing in lines. Growing up in the Soviet Union, you had to wait in line for everything. Shoes, clothes, bread, sugar, backpacks, umbrellas, you name it.
If I needed new boots in the winter, four-hour line outside the shoe department. If we were running low on food, I would have to stand outside in the freezing temperatures of the early morning, waiting for the grocery store to open. This was the only guarantee to get food before it ran out.
Lines, endless lines, no matter what I had to buy. There is a Russian anecdote about standing in these lines. A man is walking down the street and sees a line of people. He gets in line and only after standing for a while finally asks, “So what are we waiting in line for?” But that’s how it was.
If you saw a line, you got behind the last person and waited. Maybe it would be for something you needed. Or maybe it would be for something you didn’t need but could then trade with a neighbor for something more useful. My brother and I would spend hours waiting in different lines by ourselves in order to maximize our chances of getting what we needed.
These weren’t the only lines I had to deal with growing up.
Public transportation was its own process of endless waiting. After a long walk to the bus stop, I would have to stand there and wait for up to 40 minutes until the bus came. Then, I would try to squeeze myself into the already overfilled bus. If someone stronger pushed me away, I would have to wait again, another 40 minutes until the next bus showed up. When I was lucky enough to get onto the bus, I would be crushed from all sides by people, with barely any air to breathe.
This would last another 40 minutes while I waited for the bus to get to school. Sometimes, people would exit the bus in one big crowd, pushing me out of the bus along with it. Then I would find myself outside on a stop that was way before mine, waiting for the bus again. And on the way back from school, I would go through all this again.
Unfortunately, even with all the lines and waiting I had to do in my childhood, I did not learn the value and virtue of patience. I wanted everything as fast as possible.
I started breathing before I was born, which makes me think that it’s just in my nature to be this way. I am incredibly impatient. If I want something, I expect it immediately. When I meet someone new that I like, I expect to be best friends right away. When I get sick or injured, I want to be back to normal the very next day, and even that is too long of a wait for my recovery. If I travel somewhere to see something (like when I went to see the Queen’s Bath), I have to see it on that day, regardless of what the weather is like. And if I buy a dessert that I really like, or have chocolate sitting around the house, I have to eat it right away. There’s no saving it for later.
I am all about instant gratification. Delayed gratification? What is that? I certainly have never heard of it.
The problem is, over the years, my lack of patience has only brought trouble. When I don’t get something that I want, I do something to make it happen right away. Except, it almost never works out how I intend it to.
When I injured my foot, I wasn’t patient enough to spend four weeks on crutches waiting for it to heal. I started limping on my foot after one day, and as a result, I only made the injury worse. When I bought a guitar, I wanted to be a skilled musician within the same week. My first instructor started me off on simple chords and scales, and I quit after a week because he didn’t make me great fast enough.
I scare away good people who could potentially become my best friends if only I had given them more time to open up and feel comfortable around me. I get into fights with my daughter when she doesn’t finish her chores fast enough. I nearly died from being swept off a cliff by dangerously high waves because I didn’t want to wait another day to go to the Queen’s Bath when the weather would be better. This had to change.
It took me a long time to figure out how to be happy while waiting for something to happen. But eventually, I learned how to make the wait less frustrating.
The solution I found was to focus on something completely different.
Something that had nothing to do with the end goal. I realized my problem was that I would become so fixated on what I wanted, that I couldn’t function in any other way until I got to that point. All of my thoughts would become consumed by this one thing. So of course I would do everything in my power to get to that end point, just so I could move on with my life.
But, if I focused on something completely unrelated, I had less trouble waiting for it to happen.
When I stand in line now, I look around and notice all the little details in my surroundings and on the people in front of me. I wonder what they like to cook for dinner. I try to imagine them as children. I think about what amazing life experiences they must have, what stories they carry around with them.
When I get injured, I focus on sending huge amounts of love to the injured part of my body. I think about all the things I can do to make me forget about my sickness: read a book, watch TV, meditate. I try not to think about how much I want to feel better, because that will only make me impatient again.
When I meet someone new, I make sure to pause and let them talk. I ask them interesting, general questions about their lives and wait for them to open up. People have shared some incredible stories with me this way.
The more I was willing to fill the little gaps between significant events with simple pleasures, the less I noticed time passing by.
Before I knew it, I would be at the front of the line, completely healthy, chatting with my new best friend. Looking back, the wait wasn’t that bad at all. Eventually, even those small in between moments became significant and wonderful all on their own.
If I have to wait for something, I use it as a time to reflect on my day or be alone with my thoughts.
I used to absolutely hate having to wait for my food in restaurants. But now it’s an opportunity to talk to whomever I’m with and get to know them. Or hear about their day. When I’m waiting to go on a trip or for the next thing in my life to happen, I use it as a chance to appreciate the present moment.
Having to wait isn’t a bad thing. I just had to learn how to make the wait just as enjoyable as the thing I was waiting for.
Milana Perepyolkina is the author of:
Gypsy Energy Secrets: Turning a Bad Day into a Good Day No Matter What Life Throws at You
and
Dark Chocolate for the Soul: Turning a Bitter Life into a Sweet Life No Matter What Happens to You
Michael Toebe authors and publishes the weekly Red Diamonds Newsletter, Red Diamonds Features and Red Diamonds Essays (all on Medium) and hosts the Red Diamonds Podcast. He is a specialist for reputation, professional relationships communication and wiser crisis management. You can connect or contact him on LinkedIn.
