My vice

The other day I was getting so excited about love. I even mentioned to myself how even saying the words “I love you” was felt deep down in my belly (or somewhere close lol). It was a warm feeling,  and truly felt like butterflies. That feeling I got confirmed that it came from the abyss of my soul, and that it was genuine.  My love outburst or for this purpose, bubble was shortly popped.                  

I came across this verse that is often said during weddings, and other love oriented ceremonies. ” Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.” My sentiments were not uttered at any of the aforementioned events, in fact they were stated for my own edification- obviously still valid. I stumbled when I read patient. Immediately thoughts of guilt clouded my mind. My love, my being, my way of life was neglected of one of the key elements of love.

I lack patience in every aspect of my life. This vice allows me to make rash and sometimes brash decisions.  It allows me to be frustrated.  It allows me to get upset even when a simple waiting could have cured this. It allows me to want to do it all by myself rendering me to be at times selfish and untrusting of the ability of others to do for me. It allows for me to be an overachiever. It allows for me to take shortcuts instead of trusting the process.  It allows me to feel good when I feel exhausted because I think accomplishing it all on my own is a good fait accomplis. It allows the thoughts of “bust out the windows of his car” cue Jazmine  Sullivan when a simple hear me out would have sufficed for everyone. It allows me to deep sigh and handle situations aggressively instead of with care and compassion.  It allows me to feel like I should retract my I love you because to build patience is an uncomfortable process that I am not prepared for–but I won’t.
                             
You might be reading this and think “Girl, it’s not that big of a deal.” But if we want to be honest with ourselves it truly is. When is a missing part of a whole ever OK?  Can you bake a cake and leave out that 1 teaspoon of baking powder they ask for? Being impatient makes my love liable to fall apart. It makes it immature. It makes it stagnant. It makes it weak, and makes me weak. It makes those butterflies that I feel flutter in vain because if it’s not willing to be whole what’s the point.

I’m holding myself accountable to mend this broken part of me. I’m in no rush because it’s going to be a task. I’m working at working through my discomfort because what lies ahead is so beautiful and so worth it.

Do you have a vice? Does it make you sick?  Does it make you uncomfortable? Does it make you feel incomplete?  Mine does.

En tout cas,
Me

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