Patience?

I’ve never been (and suspect I never will be) commended for having the patience of a saint. In fact, I generally uphold both the Aries and the Sicilian stereotypes of being easily irritated and fiercely reactive. As I reflected on this recently, my first thought was “well, I have become much more patient over time”. Which, while arguably true, was followed quickly by the realization that there’s also been a sea change, to complement the one in my psyche, in the things that now make me bristle with impatience.

As a teen and young adult, I had no patience for sitting still or even slowing down. There were only two acceptable speeds, as far as I was concerned: fast and faster. The needs to abstain from thinking too much and to prove my worth had me careening through my days. And God help those who chose to live differently. What was wrong with these plodding duds (like those who tended toward thoughtful consideration, maybe) and these lazy daydreamers (like those who were creative and/or knew how to relax)? Of course, a cousin of impatience is impulsivity. There was only now and not now. Every thought became a snap decision. Every desire had to be satisfied immediately.

I’d love to be able to say that these tendencies mellowed as I aged, but because I didn’t mature until after sixty, they really didn’t. If anything, I became more impatient as my reality repeatedly clashed with my fantasy. Minor inconveniences like bad weather or a delay could send me into a tailspin for hours. Major obstacles or changes could have me raging for days. Nowhere was my impatience more apparent than with myself: self-improvement and “advancement” (to where, I now wonder) were full-time, life-or-death missions. And there was no such thing as an honest mistake, or a learning curve, or “good enough”. Just who you want to take on the task of raising children.

Because I’d been provided with an example I was determined to significantly improve upon, I was uncharacteristically mindful of how I responded to my children. People more than once remarked that I was a patient mother (and compared to mine, I was Mother Teresa), but all I can remember is how difficult I found it; all of the internal sighing and eye rolling and micromanaging I did. How insane I would feel when my kids had to be told something more than once or didn’t act the way I imagined they should.

And don’t even get me started on trying to add a brilliant, neurotic, allergic-to-everything puppy to my overflowing plate shortly after my life imploded. Let’s just say that I’m relieved that he and my daughter are both exceptionally forgiving.

Turns out when you no longer feel the need to prove your worthiness to exist, you can slow down. And when you heal and grow enough to learn that most things aren’t personal, you can overlook glitches as the minor irritations that they are. Which leads to my assessment that I’ve become exponentially more patient. (I can now wait in line or sit in traffic without risking a stroke, and I am far more tolerant of individual differences.)

It’s probably a fair assessment, as far as it goes. But suddenly there’s a bunch of new things for which I can’t summon even an ounce of patience. Like unkindness and incivility. Dishonesty and corruption. Injustice and intolerance. Like fearmongering or resignation. Complaint without reflection or action. Shrinking on demand. Like judgment and unsolicited advice. Pity instead of empathy. Self-absorption.

I’m sure I missed a few, as our current social climate is providing new candidates daily. Here’s what’s different about these late-in-life triggers of impatience: I’m no longer as vocal, as strident, as angry as I once was. And while that makes sense for things that I now see mostly didn’t merit that response, I’m beginning to wonder if maybe I should be. Maybe it’s time to get loud about some of the things that have led us to our current moment. Maybe owning and amplifying our impatience with the normalization of the creeping fascism we’re facing will lead to effective action.

***

Thanks for reading. What makes you impatient these days?

GOOD THINGS

Clear vision. Following a long overdue visit, I now have the proper prescriptions in my computer, reading, and distance glasses. Picking out frames provided a fun distraction. Here’s hoping my sharper vision will be metaphysical as well.

A visit to the foot spa. Who can’t use an hour of reflexology? Also known as heaven. Followed by an editing session at the cool coffee shop next door.