life-is-too-short-to-drink-bad-wine

I’m not a patient person. There I said it.

I don’t read directions, and I don’t wait for instructions. I don’t always think before I speak. And I often jump to conclusions.

I will admit that I often get into trouble because of this. Not like the I’m-always-in-trouble-with-the-law kind of trouble, but I’ll just say it causes problems now and then.

When my husband and I first got married, he forced me to be more patient.

While we finished college, we patiently worked 70 hours a week + classes & homework time to pay off our tuition as we went. I appreciated that. He’s a good guy.

Also while we were in college, we decided to wait to have kids. That was a good call too. I would have dropped out and never gone back if I’d gotten pregnant.

He’s good at being patient. And I definitely need the balance he brings to me… but my fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants impulsiveness has helped him out now and then too.

Seven years ago (wow!) I was in debt up to my eyeballs (back to that patience thing and just doing/getting what I want when I want it), and he was six years into his teaching career. He was miserable. Beyond miserable.

Since he didn’t know about my debt, I had to do something about it. And since patience isn’t my scene, I jumped right in. My degree is in English (what?!) and though the thought of writing something that people would actually read terrified me, I applied for several writing gigs and actually scored them. The small paychecks encouraged me, and I started looking for more that I could do. Before I had kids I worked as an Administrative Assistant at a TV station, and realized that a Virtual Assistant wouldn’t be much different. So, I convinced a few people to hire me and started chipping away at that debt.

At the same time, the husband was still miserable. He would be fine on Friday/Saturday but Sunday-Thursday he was nigh impossible to live with (I love him, and he totally knows he was, so I’m not dissing him or anything). He literally HAD to get out of teaching.

When we first discussed him leaving, his mentality was that he had ten years in, and only fifteen left till the earliest time that he could retire. He really said that. Only fifteen years.

My impatient mind could not even fathom what he just said. Only fifteen years. Do you know how many years we have left? Yeah, me neither. But fifteen sounds like it could be a large chunk of them. And even if we end up with 50 years left, why would you want to spend fifteen of them being miserable?

Thank goodness, he resigned. And he’s totally killing it doing what he loves.

My point in all of this is, patience may be a virtue – but it’s not always the best choice.

Life is too damn short to wait for happiness.

If you want to change jobs, find a new one or create a brand new one just for you.

If you want to sell everything and travel, have a garage sale and buy a freaking plane ticket.

If you need a break, take it.

If you need answers, ask questions.

For goodness sake, just don’t be patient about it. Do not wait another minute. God only knows how many minutes you have left.