If there’s one thing that I best remember my grandmother saying, it’s the ever-present echo of one single word: “Persevere!” Every time I’d get frustrated or want to call it quits, she’d sing-song this word– which, of course, would send me through the roof.
I was such an impatient kid, but I am becoming increasingly more aware that I have never truly conquered this childhood struggle. At this in-between phase of my new life, it feels like I’m often trapped in a revolving waiting room door: waiting for college acceptances, waiting to become aware of my purpose, waiting for the rest of my “real” life to begin. It hasn’t been since these changes have occurred that I’ve realized just how much I crave– and, to a certain degree, expect– immediacy. The old adage of “Good things come to those who wait” seems to me to be the most asinine phrase. Surely there can be nothing “good” about the restlessness, the anxiety, or even fear that comes with treading the waters of the unknown.
My need for patience has infiltrated every corner of my life, and it seems to me that this convergence must be a sign that now is the time where I have to learn my lesson. There’s no sense in putting it off any longer. I will wait for college acceptances and have faith that I will end up where I’m supposed to be. I will cut out the self-deprecation for X, Y, Z and wait for improvement and enlightenment. I will stop settling for things or people I’m not happy with and wait for something/someone right to come along. I will stop trying to force personal relationships and let them progress easily, naturally. I will not wish my youth away in anticipation for adulthood.
I will also have to wait to see the results of patience. The irony of this just seems too ridiculous to be real.
But it is. So I will wait, and I will savor it. Slowly, and with no reservations.