Patience and Self-betrayal

I have conversations with myself; and sometimes I even have them out loud, whilst walking or hiking. It helps to clear my mind, organize my thoughts, and settle the constant jitteriness that seems to have taken hold over me these past few weeks.

Something is brewing, and I can sense it. What struck me was this: I am in danger. Something feels pivotal and I am having a challenging time articulating it. Normally I would blame social media and its overconsumption. Except this time I don’t believe that’s the root of my anxiety. Instead I feel there is a deeper reckoning. I think the danger is self-betrayal in the name of patience.

A year and a half ago I made a desperate call to a childhood friend. It was 1am my time and she was several hours behind. It was a humble and humiliating conversation and one that I handled poorly; I should have done more listening than speaking, and truth be told we haven’t spoken since. I don’t hold it against her.

I was rushed and selfish and the opposite of patient on that call. Everything that I had to say was bottled up due to trying to meet the standards of the situation, and the walls finally crumbled. And it had nothing to do with her: I needed someone I could trust, someone I knew, and who I hoped wouldn’t judge me. And what she told me stuck with me:

Patience, or attempting to ‘wait it out’ is often seen as a virtue. “Wait and see” seems to be a coping method of the well balanced and mature; the quiet pause before jumping (to conclusions, down someone’s throat…) too soon.

But now I am beginning to wonder if my patience has become a form of self-betrayal; waiting for someone, or something to see my wants, desires, value, or even me, instead of simply taking action. Of course taking action is uncomfortable. It’s steering off into the unknown in the name of Self: taking charge and not knowing if things will fall the way we want them to. It’s risky.

But…when does the virtue of patience turn into stagnation, or an excuse for inaction? When does patience become a vice?

Five years ago I experienced a public fall from grace that upended and collapsed everything I knew, and humiliated me in the process. The only way through that kind of upheaval and dissipation was to meet it with patience. In that situation, waiting was demanded of me - the recovery could not be rushed.

This danger feels different. It doesn’t feel like a sudden shock of loss: it feels like waiting, or the hope that comes with waiting, could lead to a diminished sense of Self. It feels like the opposite of growth and expansion; instead of patiently breathing through the rough patch, it’s a threat of shrinking and wasting away disguised as stillness in the storm. This time I feel it is me in the driver’s seat; so why am I defaulting to ‘wait and see’?

With this realization, I now find myself asking: if it’s not me who is benefiting from this act of patience, who is? Is it society? My interpersonal relationships? A corporation? Perhaps more importantly, does it really matter who is benefiting, if it’s not me?

That nighttime phone call with my friend - I have had so much time to mull it over, replaying the discomfort of our conversation in my mind. I know now that I had called seeking permission. I wanted a green light; assurance that I was understood and permitted. A pat on the back that my approach was warranted and approved.

Maybe I’m at the brink. Maybe we all are, in a way. A brink of realizing that inaction or leaving things to fate is a dangerous way to steer one’s life. Yes; patience has its place. It is a virtue. But so is self. Self is a virtue! Self-love, self-knowledge, self-authenticity, self-control.

Perhaps the danger being sensed is a moral one; the realization that no one else is going to take this life - this one precious life - and hold it for me in the ways that I ache for. And it wouldn’t be fair of me to ask them to. I have an obligation to myself to recognize patience where it is needed, and to acknowledge action when it is needed. To plan, set into motion, and take accountability for a life that is truly mine. One lived without permission, or self-betrayal.

And I have to tell you, I think its going to feel good. Really good.