Historically, I’ve always been bad at waiting on/for things.
I always thought of it as wasted time, and it’s a completely warped sense of reality when you arrive at 7:59 and someone comes at 8:05 versus waiting an hour and a half in a doctor’s office after checking in appear to be identical in terms of duration.
I recently stopped being that person who follows up incessantly to make sure someone’s on time. They’re busy, I’m busy, it’s LA, there’s traffic, and I’m late more often than I’m early. Me transferring my anxiety attack onto someone else does nothing for anyone.
Also, as the frequent “late person”, I know that someone breathing down my neck to arrive on time is never a welcoming moment. I’m so bad at time planning that things that take 30 minutes I swear I can do in 10. And then don’t execute them…ever. Showers are a BIG offender.
So there’s a simple joy, a meditation in waiting. It’s anticipatory but think of all the things you can get done in that moment.
Like writing this.
