Getting To Know Me

I hate being afraid. I hate being scared. I hate fearing I’m going to lose my family. My son got sick this weekend and had fever that reached 39 degrees. Not that it did not happen to him that before but every time he got sick, I find myself at a tall ledge, about to drop, to a fall that I don’t know if I’m going to survive or die. But he is okay now. Back to where things are used to be. I guess the ledge was not that high.

I hate being snooty. But it does not mean I stay nice and friendly and patient to what ever happens around me. To avoid conflicts, there are things that I keep to myself so as not to create animosity. But then, sometimes people can be so insensitive and pushy that they would not stop until they get what they want. And then the feeling of disgust would not leave me. The thoughts creep in, and just sit there. And I stop feeling nice and friendly. Honestly, it’s times like these that I realized patience is not really my virtue. I don’t complain, but it doesn’t mean I understand. I will not answer back but deep inside I was gnashing my teeth and just waiting for the demons to come out and break loose. I can say that patience is better tested when under fire, when stressors are around, when you happen upon people who never cared at first but turned super sweet when they are for something.

So yes, I am not patient. But I can be, soon.