I have often been told by my mom I am a patient person. “I don’t think I have the patience like yours to complete a 2000-piece jigsaw puzzle.” She’d say. So that’s what I’ve always thought – I am a patient person.
I don’t recall when I developed this ridiculously hopeful attitude toward life – that everything will get better eventually, that something is better than nothing, glass is half-full kind of person.
“Don’t be so selfish,” my mom would chide whenever I refuse to help or whenever I refuse to share food with somebody. I hated being called that because I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing my whole life – sharing and never getting enough for myself.
When I was in middle school or high school, my mom would often point out teasingly that I have a low EQ (emotions quotient), sort of like low IQ except with emotions.
I consider myself to be an easygoing person but of course, because of my doubtfulness, I am not certain I’m viewed as this person in some people’s eyes. In the past, I’ve had people give me conflicted ideas – people tell me I’m mean, people tell me I’m too nice and need to be meaner…
I believe having doubts is a part of being human but as I grow older, I would often find my doubts be the driving factor of my day-to-day anxiety and hesitation.
Sometimes, I wish I can go to the top of a mountain and scream, “I am a capable person.”
When life gives you lemons, you do whatever the hell you can with it.