Patience? I Don’t Know Her
For as long as I can remember, everyone has been talking to me about patience. Every time I express a worry, talk about a place where I feel stuck, or mention something I want in life, I’m always told I need to be patient. That is so interesting to me. Why is patience always the first thing to pop up?
Am I an impatient person? Definitely.
Do I want to be good at things right away? Yes.
Is the world not spinning fast enough for me? Absolutely.
But where are the other impatient people who can relate and say things like, “Oh, you feel stuck? Try doing this,” or “You have this goal? Here are some things you could try”? I’m desperate to meet other impatient creatives who are also driven to start before they’re ready, to try things they don’t know how to do. Is that bad? From what I hear, I should stop worrying about how to get to the next level and just slowly but surely work towards my goals without exhausting myself or pushing beyond the level I’m at. There are two problems with that, though:
That sounds boring as hell.
Patience is not an actionable step.
I think what annoys me the most about the comment, “you need to be patient,” is that it feels like a passive approach to life I don’t subscribe to. I can be patient and wait to feel ready, wait for the next opportunity, wait for the right moment.
OR, I can start before I’m ready. I can create the next opportunity. I can harness every moment.
Before I continue, let me just preface with this: I’m not saying patience is useless. I understand that things take time and that practicing patience is an important part of life—especially in our modern world, where we can get so much instant gratification and quick dopamine. Packages delivered instantly. AI-generated answers in seconds. Binge watching. Everything is up for grabs now, so how do we still feel something when we have everything so easily?
That’s exactly why I love pushing myself—to experience how difficult effort can be, in contrast to the amazing high of delayed gratification. Being able to look back at myself last year or five years ago and see the progress I’ve made in one field or another is so rewarding. To me, that is what a life well lived looks like: not taking any day for granted, not living on autopilot and letting the days go by, waiting and wishing that the things I want would come to me. I run toward the life I want.
If you’re a runner with a goal to run a marathon, your coach doesn’t tell you to be patient. They tell you to train. They give you hard drills and workouts. They push you. If you want to be a better runner, you have to hit the pavement and put in the work. But between workouts, you don’t just sit there and “be patient.” You look at your nutrition. You improve your sleep. You stretch. You get massages. You upgrade your gear. You check your stats and set new goals.
So when it comes to creativity, why should patience be the answer?
Shouldn’t the answer be: learn new skills, try new techniques, connect with new people, push yourself to show your work, create new workouts that will help you grow?
Why is the advice “be patient”?
When I look up the definition of patience, here’s what shows up:
Patience: The capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset.
I get it. Maybe the advice is about my emotional reaction to the growth process. How can I take all the steps to grow and, at the same time, build a stronger capacity to be with the discomfort of that growth—without being so stressed or anxious, or always feeling like I’m not doing enough? That feels actionable.
Sure, it would be great not to cry once a week because I feel like I’m not where I need to be, or because I can’t yet bring to life all of the ideas in my head. But then again, if I practice being at peace with whatever stage of growth I’m at in my creative practice, I feel like that will tame the flame that gets me going.
I can’t live on low heat—I need the sizzle.
Every tear, every anxious thought I’ve ever had has started the fire within me to act on the next creative idea. And what’s so wrong about being upset, anyway? We’ve become so emotionally numb that we’re just pretending we’re okay by using coping mechanisms like shopping, drinking, and rotting in bed scrolling on the digital rectangles.
Forget patience.
I want to have conversations with other creatives that leave me feeling like I’m on fire—like I have the confidence and motivation to try new things, to push my limits, and to live my creative life to its fullest.
