The Art of Patience


Not too long ago I had an interview for a writing position with a company I really admired. I had all of the qualifications, skills, and education to land the job.  Upon completing my first interview (which I believed I rocked) I followed up with a gracious email. A month later I sent another. Then another. When the time came for my second interview, I got Devil-Wears-Prada annihilated by the CEO. He told me I was far too eager, aggressive, and that I needed to slow down. “What’s the rush?” he asked me. “You’re young and talented. Humble yourself.”

After I shit my pants I left the office and sat in my car, wide eyed and a lot less confident- not just about my writing, but about myself as a human. Why was I being so pushy? Sure I had lost my job a month before and was short on cash; my dysfunctional relationship had floundered about a week after that, leaving me feeling pretty bruised and needy. But this was nothing new.

I do everything fast. I talk fast, I walk fast; I get shit done. Living in a bustling city was the perfect place for me to hit my 20’s. I have a quick, aggressive mouth that can win people over or get me in trouble, depending. But I have never been slow. I have never been mellow. I envy my beautiful friend Julia, whose face never moves while she talks. Her voice barely changes octaves, no matter the scenario. She is a serene, unshakable gazebo of a human that I will just never be.

A good friend and I experienced a classic drunk fight this past weekend. Waking up with a hell of a hangover and anxiety attack that sent my heart racing through my ribs, I proceeded to call him 15 times to make sure he wasn’t mad at me. After 15 ignored calls, I recruited my friends, beside myself, wondering what I had done. Uh, nothing? People don’t want to re-hash everything from the night before at 9 AM. Some people like space. Some people like the quiet peace of being by themselves. Some people sleep. Who knew?

My mom told me once that I remind her of a little kid who gets their first fluffy pet and they are so excited that they squeeze the adorable creature until it dies. Sweet, right? I want to not only hold on to, but control every possible delicious moment of my life. I also want every perfect, rewarding moment to happen right now. I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to wonder.

Every day this week my horoscope has echoed two words: patience, faith. Why is it so hard for me (and maybe you) to trust this place we find ourselves in? To know that we are safe and okay, and that the beautiful art of doing absolutely nothing is sometimes just what we need?

If you’re a psycho like me and you just can’t find that sweet spot of trust, I encourage you to: a. not beat yourself up about it, and b. keep trying. I can’t say for certain if the universe has an ultimate plan for you, but I think it’s safe to say that you just can’t force your life. And I definitely didn’t get that writing job.


2 thoughts on “The Art of Patience

  1. Whoa that’s funny Courtney wrote that.
    Just read a bunch of ur entries.

    This one almost made me cry. Needed this also …but like right now. Haha. Bravo

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