Impatience in being Patient
Ever since I was a little girl, instant gratification has been a part of my life. My dad still mentions that he has always bought me barbies on my first wish and never allowed me to wait for anything I wanted. With a great sense of gratefulness, for the love my father showed in fulfilling my every desire, I somewhat never caught any sense of what patience meant. It does not mean I could not wait until the weekend for the one barbie doll I wanted, it was about the anxiety I now feel when the results are not quick.
Time and again, I have read and heard about patience being a virtue to success. I have always come back to this phenomenon. Patience does not come easily; if it does at all, it does not stay for long. So far in life, I have realised that patience is truly the virtue of every experience. From not getting a reply within 10 minutes to wanting to finish my dissertation as soon as possible, it fascinatingly made me think about patience. I always stood by patience as a concept that I have to use in life when it comes to waiting. Waiting for a call-back, waiting for uber-eats delivery, and waiting for the tube; I am so impatient that once my headphones broke, I ordered new ones within that second; waiting gives me anxiety.
When I mention patience, it is often perceived as a phenomenon that applies to external factors such as replies from a potential employer, but it is undoubtedly terribly hard to explain that I lack patience within and for myself. Somehow wanting to suddenly leave behind past relationships, friendships, and traumas overnight is an expectation I happen to stick by because I lack patience. To give me time to get over a heartbreak is not something I happen to stick by. It makes growth a much harder process because being impatient does not allow me to experience, even heartbreak, in peace.
Being an impatient anxious individual brings a self to the surface that otherwise does not exist. Consider this self to be the rat from Ratatouille. The impatient rat sits on my head and guides my life, which has a ticking clock as a backdrop. The moment the sign ‘waiting’ shows up in my brain, the rat induces panic and speaks in a voice that only suggests ‘this should happen right now ‘this process should be faster’ ‘too slow!’ and for some reason unknown, I comply. Only on an unlucky day, the anxiety builds up and projects ideas of unworthiness for self because ‘things’ are not proceeding, happening or moving quickly.
However, on those days and weeks when I am patiently waiting for myself to come back to writing my dissertation or an article makes me believe I have patience. To allow myself to cry for hours and days and let myself take time in doing a task in three hours than in one, even though the little rat kicks my head, I persevere to be patient. Even though these days do not appear very often without a storm of anxiety in my stomach, I still think I have patience hidden. I think patience is the one thing I have learned in the 22nd year of my life. I must patiently wait for what the rest of the journey brings.