It wasn't until I reached my mid-fifties; I discovered my lack of patience.
No seriously, no patience for opening jam jars, undoing packages, putting away shopping, nothing.
I am a respectable businesswoman who can lose her patience more often than not over the smallest thing at the drop of a hat.
To put it into perspective, a plane could quite conceivably drop its undercarriage on my drawing cottage in the garden, and I would not bat an eyelid.
I'd be upset, of course, but if you take something that belongs to me and don't put it back, god forbid the wrath I wield on you.
I am a woman who can quite literally get out of the car and wreak vengeance on anyone who carves me up on the road.
When my banking app freezes, I start shouting at the bloody screen, or my computer screen inexplicably hangs, and I lose some of the document I'm working on.
That feeling you get inside when your patience runs out, you sigh and then want to scream through sheer frustration.
Impatience is due to the menopause, and I know I have to ride its wrath with time.
I mutter uncharitable things about people who slow me down on my path to where it is I'm going.
The woman who gets in my way when I'm trying to look at jumpers or the queue in a supermarket when only four cashier points are open, with a hundred people waiting in line.
When my husband shares his day; I'm pushing him to get on with his news like an impatient toddler wanting a bottle of warm milk.
Soulful moments that solicit calm and should be unhurried.
Time is a precious commodity. Everywhere you look, there is a time-saving app designed to give you back 'more time' or to be 'more productive' with your time.
We are slaves to time.
"The two most powerful warriors are patience and time".
Leo Tolstoy War and Peace.
We conduct our lives in time and routine.
We live by the time.
Time to get to school and work, time to eat, time to exercise time is everything, and it is exhausting, especially when you're trying to fit so much into a day that is overflowing.
Time is divided by how much you try and fit into your day.
I'm reminded that patience is a virtue.
Being patient means, we are somehow virtuous because we don't allow external factors to frustrate or anger us—a good character trait to have.
I miss opportunities with friends because I am inextricably linked to time.
A phone call or two will hinder my ability to complete my work, so why make the call?
Time is the thief of my time, emotionally and physically.
In my mid-fifties, I ask, how did I get here? Where has the time gone?
I view life through my children's eyes buoyant in the knowledge that they have plenty of time to look forward.
They don't exhibit patience either; therefore, tolerance is not passed on from one generation to the next; it is part of the inner psyche that makes us human.
We don't need things we want things, and we want them now.
We are more impatient than ever, yet we are missing out on all that life has to offer.
The view overlooking your garden, nature surrounding us in her winter glory.
Our world is too busy and frenetic to think, let alone take time to sit quietly and be patient.
And yet we must try so that we give ourselves and others the attention they deserve.
Why have bullet journals, productivity journals and digital apps but don't take the time to be still and practise patience?
Life is inconvenient the daily grind gets in the way, and it isn't easy.
As part of my new year, new me, I am trying new ways to be more patient and practice the art of patience.
When I feel the frustration rising with one of my children or husband, I am conscious of how I feel and acknowledge it.
Whatever irritates me simply isn't worth the attention.
I sigh, slow down, appreciate the situation and tell myself will this be important tomorrow or next week?
Being patient will help calm and restore our real sense of self.
Here's to being patient.
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