For our whole lives, we’re told to wait for something. Wait for dinner. Wait until your dad gets home. Wait until you have kids of your own. Wait until marriage. Wait until the weekend. Everything seems to revolve around waiting for conditions to get better or change. Time is made out to be this magical cure-all. But the reality is that there’s no way of knowing if the right time will ever get here.
The concept of waiting is highly personal for me. I’m an avid procrastinator and perfectionist. The myth of the right time is something that is constantly in my head. Because of my chronic illnesses, I find myself waiting until I’m in a better mindset to do anything. I miss assignments and cause myself more stress. I don’t take opportunities because the conditions could be better. I don’t spend time with people I love because I’m not a happy cheerful friend, even though I know that being alone is the worst thing I can do when I’m upset.
Waiting is passive. Even in the case of a healing wound or illness (*cough* mono) that must be rested, the body isn’t waiting. It’s actively working to mend what’s wrong. When the time really isn’t right for something, don’t wait for the conditions to just appear; assess the situation and see what you can reasonably do (You can’t do everything though!!! I’m looking at you). When I am feeling especially Wrong™ and my inclination is to isolate myself, I can’t just wait to feel better. Sometimes I do need to be alone and rest, but the root of that is the need to find peace and balance. If I’m in a state where my internal equilibrium is off, I need to bounce off of others to help me get back in harmony with myself.
Growing up, I was taught a very strict ideal for relationships. Wait until you meet the right man. Wait to kiss him. Wait to fully let yourself love. Now I find myself waiting until I’m in a healthier place to pursue any sort of relationship. “No one else can love you until you love yourself,” they say. I call BS. For one, that’s sounds a hell of a lot like saying you don’t deserve love unless XYZ, and that’s malarky (I’m still working out the why, but let’s go with it). There’s also the issue of consistency. “Loving yourself” isn’t a constant thing. Objectively, I love myself. I love the life I’m building and the direction I’m taking it. Some days, when I’m balanced and satiated, I deeply love myself. Subjectively, I’m as moody and dramatic as the weather here in the midwest. Love begets love. Sometimes you need a jumpstart. I certainly did.
As with all my posts, none of this is meant to as a be all, end all, it’s just my experience. In the meantime, go listen to Kesha’s new album. Or at least Learn to Let Go.