Patience

When I was younger, I used to ask God for more patience. Until I realized that the only way to get patience is to learn it. I stopped asking.

I’m the person that eats cookies half-baked because I can’t wait any longer for them (They’re better that way anyhow, in my opinion).

I regularly put away laundry that might be just a tad bit damp because the dryer was taking too long for my taste.

I don’t like to wait in lines, on hold, or…well, wait, period.

I want to know the what happens in the story and so I start skimming pages to get to the end faster (I would NEVER just jump to the last chapter, however).

If you don’t get to the point of your story fast enough, I’ve already started a new story. And I have a terrible habit of interrupting.

I would like to think that in my middle aged-ness, I am a little more patient, but it’s also really likely that I’m deluding myself into a virtue that I am quite inadequate in.

Now, as I look at my future, look at one day dating again, being in a relationship again someday, I realize that even though I am horribly impatient, I’m going to need someone who is uber patient with me. Although, I am spending much of my time and energy lately “unpacking” my baggage and issues that I picked up along the journey, I almost feel like some things are going to be a part of me forever. Some of the things that I am most insecure about stem from issues from my first marriage and a tiny little voice of fear keeps burrowing its doubts in my head that there is not a man on this planet that will be able to overcome my sometimes debilitating self-doubts, jealousy, and mistrust. And I hate that.

I want to be the confident, carefree, secure woman, but dang, there road there is taking so long. Are there any shortcuts?

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