I have many flaws, as we all do, but for the most part I love my flaws. They make me weird and interesting and unique. I don't often sit around wishing them away, or dwelling on how I want to fix them. Flaws have the power drive you to be a better person - my envy sometimes get the better of me but it often pushes me to work harder at what I love. And I see it helping me to constantly strive for more than just the middle of the road. I think that flaws can also have a silver lining - my very high standards for myself and everyone around me can get me into deep trouble, but it also happens to serve as a constant learning experience to give others the same grace I give myself to learn and grow. There is one flaw that I do struggle with on a regular basis (and it's probably a bit ironic that it's a flaw I struggle with) and that's my extreme impatience.
I'm a very impatient person. I don't like waiting for results, for responses, for time to pass. I don't like waiting to get better at a skill - I want to be instantly proficient. When I started my blog, I wanted a perfect design and fantastic photos from day one. I didn't like that there was a learning curve that I couldn't tackle in a day. I don't like waiting for packages to arrive, or for a pair of shoes to come in in my size. I don't like waiting in traffic. I don't like sitting around without a clear and immediate solution. This nagging obsession with instant gratification is enough to drive me mad in holding periods - the time between a raise or promotion, waiting on results from a test/quiz/deadline, the period of time between holidays, and (perhaps most apropos at this time) the time it takes your own body to heal.
In particular, I think I mentioned I'm dealing with some kind of skin issue right now earlier this week (hives or a rash, whatever it is, it's driving me insane). I find that in times when I am not feeling well, my impatience angrily bubbles up in unproductive ways. If there's anything that halts healing, it's worrying about healing and focusing on the negative instead of the positive outcomes. I'm not sure that I can count the times I've nagged Ben this week - "well what is it?" and "when will it resolve?" and "why isn't this medication working faster?" and "what if it doesn't work?" and "what're my next steps?" Tonight he told me, after my millionth teary, frustrated question this week - "these things take time."
But of course they do. The things that we are often most eager to be done with are the slowest things to come by. To heal (physically or otherwise). To recover from a devastating loss. To become a master at something difficult. And these often become our biggest triumphs - projects that take years to complete, skills that become lifelong hobbies, journeys that take a whole lifetime. I think it's important to remember this whenever possible - that the difficult, uncomfortable, and challenging aspects of our life take time. And we need to give ourselves a bit of leeway on always wanting to jump straight ahead to the finish line. If we don't run the entire race, we won't learn anything about that run and that finish line won't seem quite so sweet.