One of the hardest things for me to do is wait. Maybe this is your struggle too?
Sometimes, it feels like we’re constantly waiting on something: a raise, a text back, or even just a damn period. It can be frustrating, even downright demoralizing.
I am sharing with you my most recent experience so that you might feel less alone. As far as I know, there are many of us impatient people out there.
This week, the number of things I have to wait on piled up.
Thing number one: there is a rat inside my house. Three weeks ago, it made its first appearance, and the rat has been hounding me since. No traps worked; the rat doesn’t go anywhere near near the baits. I tried all kinds, to no avail. My cat had no luck capturing it, either. I’ve almost taken the whole place apart to drive it away or kill it. After three weeks of sussing out its hiding place, I was able to locate where it lived—in an abandoned sofa; the rat lived deep inside the cushion. Yuck. The sofa is now in the garage, and I’ve arranged for the soiled item to be given away. I’m on my wit’s end. So far, the only thing that marginally seems to work is rat tracking powder.
Time and experience tell me that what I am experiencing is ordinary. If you live in Manila (or any other urban area, really), vermin like these are part of life. But I feel strongly about mice and rats entering my house. I believe that if my house has mice, rats, cockroaches, and ants, I’m a housekeeping failure. As a result, I am failing my kids and my husband. I take vermin invasion personally.
Item number two: something is going on at work. The change will affect my schedule and how I am doing things. I’m sicko attached to routine, so this upcoming shift is ramping up my fears. Right now, I am not dreading the change itself. It’s the uncertainty that’s driving me nuts.
“What is the change? Tell me now so I can adjust already!”
“No news yet. Kindly wait.”
When will the transition happen? What day is it gonna come? Come on! Tell me already.
It’s that loss of control for both the rat situation and the job situation. I don’t have control. It’s driving me nuts.
And then there is the last item: my damn period. It is delayed. And my perimenopausal PMS is on extended-release. My uncensored self, if let loose, will be spouting expletives all over the place, trashing the house to scare the rat away, and ranting carelessly in Microsoft Teams.
But, ugh. I am here, instead, writing. Tis my way to cope. Even if I have the raging hormones of a teenager, I’m not acting out (so bad). All you see is grace under pressure, painfully cultivated, and rendered by age. You should have seen me in my 20s, I was a firestarter.
There you got it, a triple whammy: I’ve lost control of the house situation and the job situation. I don’t even have control over my middle-aged body. It’s torture for a control freak like me.
—Three days later—
My period happened, there are no traces of the rat, and work is still in transition. Sigh.
It is a relief to get my period, but I am still dead set on finishing off that pesky rat. Rationally, I know it’s gone, it has escaped, but emotionally, I’m still a wreck. I still feel anxious about the messiness and uncertainty of the remaining unresolved situations–work and household. But during those three days of waiting, I got to reflect. I pondered on my habit of associating material things with permanence and stability. Because of this habit, I hoarded grocery items in the past. I’m also overtly obsessed with order and routine because of material coping. I realize need to change, a bit.
In reality, the messiness of life cannot be prevented. Some people say it should even be welcomed with open arms, but I don’t. I don’t think I’ll ever say that. Even without the negative experiences of my past, I think I am by nature, anxious in disposition.
But I am willing to give life some leeway. I am willing to be more open to changes and unpredictability. I am willing to accept things as they are and adjust, not resisting too much. Yeah, I’ll yield, but I’m no pushover.
They always say “Go with the flow,” I get it. It’s just difficult for me to let go because of emotional baggage. Growing up with an emotionally unstable father, my early life was predicated upon his moods. I learned early on that I couldn’t trust change, other people, and/or other people’s feelings. I was powerless to control his shifting moods (and hence, my universe). So, I controlled food, routines, and things instead.
But I’m very much an adult now, and I have teenage kids of my own. If anything will bring more change, messiness, and unpredictability, then I have that.
I’m sure I can deal with the operational changes at work, more rodent invasions, and other variants of permineopausal hormonal fluctuations. I tell myself, “You’re still here, alive and kicking, old girl, Nobody’s gonna shut you down.
The featured image on this blog was AI-generated by me using free tools, namely ChatGPT, Canva, and Leonardo AI. I use these images to support my written content creatively and cost-effectively.
