angry

There comes a point in the production of every publication I work on when I just want it gone. I’m done. It’s over. Let it go. Get it off my desk. I’m moving on.

I’m not a perfectionist. There’s no such thing as perfect anyway. You could look at those pages every day for the next year and find a “problem.” I can live with an extra space, a missed comma, even — gasp — a typo.

Patience is not one my virtues. Never has been and probably never will be. The worst thing you can do to me is waste my time. It boils my blood.

I should note that this does not extend to most of the public. I’m not that b%^$ at the grocery store huffing when the cashier is taking too long, or complaining about slow fast-food service, or tailgating (OK, sometimes I do, but not NEARLY as much as I used to). In fact, I’m extraordinarily nice to most people because I have a huge well of empathy within me.

It’s incongruous, I know. Impatience and empathy aren’t qualities you usually find together. But, there I am right in the middle of that odd intersection.

I’ve been ashamed of my impatience for most of my adult life because I thought it was childish and immature, like I’m a spoiled, entitled brat who gets all bent out of shape when I don’t get my way.

I’ve tried hard — usually in vain — to hide my impatience. People who know me well and/or are attuned to nonverbal communication aren’t fooled. They quickly pick up on the not-so-subtle clues of my irritation (clenched teeth, narrowed eyes, clipped answers, etc.).

But, the older I get, the more I realize that it’s not about narcissism, or selfishness, or feeling that my time is any more valuable than anyone else’s time, it’s simply that I am hardwired to get s$%# done.

I like checking stuff off my list, and woe to the person or thing that stands in my way.  I will find a way around, over, or through you.

Recently, it occurred to me that my impatience is what makes me productive. It makes me an achiever. A person who, like I said above, gets s%^$ done.  I make things happen, with or without the help of others.

This is not a bad thing, and so I’ve decided that from now on, I’m going to wear that “impatient” label like a freakin’ badge.  I’m just going to own it.

My name is Heather and I’m impatient. (I’m also productive, effective, fast, and prolific, so…)


____________________________

About Just Write “What ends up revealing itself when free writing is that everything has meaning. That is a magnificent gift of writing. If we write from a free heart-gut place, our souls start speaking.”