So Much of the Trouble Happens When I'm in a Hurry
This week I noticed something: I’m not in such a rush to fix things anymore.
Before, the moment there was any friction in a relationship, I would go straight into problem-solving mode.
Explain, analyze, prove, talk it through…
I always believed that if I could just make things clear enough, the relationship would go back to normal.
But this week I saw, suddenly, that some relationships don’t work that way.
Once, a small thing turned into a misunderstanding between us.
The other person was upset, and I felt a little wronged myself.
The old me would have kept explaining until they finally understood me.
This time, I wasn’t in such a hurry.
Instead of staying in that back-and-forth, I stepped away for a while and let myself grow quiet.
The strange thing is, once my heart settled, I began to see something else.
When someone is in the middle of a strong feeling, what they say isn’t necessarily what they mean.
Sometimes it’s only their past, the places where they were hurt, covering over who they really are for a moment.
Once I saw that, I didn’t want to prove myself so badly anymore.
Later, when we had both calmed down, we talked more deeply than we had before.
They said they were beginning to notice that some of their reactions came from habits formed a long time ago.
And I found that my rush to settle things had never been only about communicating.
Underneath it, I think, was fear — fear that something was wrong with the relationship.
Fear of being misunderstood.
Fear of losing the connection.
So I kept proving.
Something funny happened this week too.
One afternoon the baby skipped her nap, and I immediately started dreaming:
“Does this mean we can finally go from two naps down to one?”
In my head I had already planned out the extra time — work, rest, all the things I’d been wanting to do.
Reality pulled me back fast.
For two days straight she slept even less, and I was worn out.
In the end we went back to the old schedule.
And it hit me: what I had been hoping for wasn’t really “one nap.”
It was the picture of things going exactly the way I expected.
The two things that happened this week look completely unrelated.
But looking back, they seem to be pointing at the same thing:
So much of the time, what wears me out isn’t the thing itself.
It’s that I keep wanting it to become what I hoped for, faster.
In relationships.
In raising a child.
In myself, too.
And yet, as I slowly set that hurry down, a little space opened up inside me.
I found it easier to see other people.
And more honest to see myself.
It turns out that when a person really changes, it isn’t always because they were finally convinced.
Sometimes it’s just that, held in love, they slowly let their guard down.
I’m still learning.
Learning not to rush to prove.
Learning not to rush to change anyone.
And learning to trust that everyone has their own pace.
Maybe growth was never a race to answer first.
Maybe it grows, slowly, out of one real encounter after another.