Patience

Yesterday someone sent me a tweet, letting me know they feel I am brave and patient (thank you Joanne, it was much appreciated).  This was a little of a surprise to me, as I have never been considered ‘patient’ before – at least, not that I’m aware of.

Honestly I don’t know if I am patient or not, though I am a lot more patient now than I used to be.  I am happy to wait in line at the check-out (assuming I am physically able to of course).  I don’t usually feel I have to rush anything.  And since I’ve moved, I have found myself feeling a lot less stressed for the first time in over a year, simply because finally I know I don’t have to worry about where I’ll be in the future.

While naturally I can’t wait until I’m well enough to go to work (or even go for a cup of coffee with a friend), I am not in a rush to sort my life out.  I know that with my health right now, trying to speed along to the happily ever after will only throw me further back.  Perhaps that makes me patient, and I like to think that maybe I am; after all, certain labels have always held an appeal and something to strive towards.  What’s really amazing to me is that it doesn’t even matter

It doesn’t matter whether I am brave or patient or forgiving – as long as I am giving my body and life the chance to recover.  It is the actions and not the labels that make us who we are, and right now I’m happy to be me and I’m proud of who I’m becoming.  And that’s all I need to know about myself for now.