Patience With Myself

There is a kind of patience that no one talks about—the patience required to heal.

Not the patience of waiting in line or waiting for good news.
The patience of sitting with feelings that return when you thought they were gone.
The patience of realizing that progress doesn’t mean pain disappears forever.

I am learning that healing has its own rhythm.
Some days feel light, almost effortless. Other days feel heavy again, and for a moment it feels like I’ve gone backwards. But I am learning that going backwards is sometimes part of moving forward.

Patience with myself means allowing tears without calling them weakness.
It means resting without calling it failure.
It means speaking to myself with the same kindness I offer to others.

And most of all, patience with myself means understanding that the woman I am becoming is still in the process of being formed.

We’ve all heard the saying there’s no script to this thing called life. And it’s true. Especially after the loss of a loved one. And then imagine the loss of oneself.

Some days feel familiar, and I know this woman. I can recognize the girl inside speaking through her.
Then there are other days when I don’t recognize myself at all, and just like that… I have to pause.

I have to rely on my Lord and not myself.
I have to call upon Him.

As He says:
“Call upon Me; I will respond to you.” (Qur’an 40:60)

I know I can’t do this alone.
It is in grounding myself in my faith that I find strength—and most importantly, patience.

Patience is no longer something I think about.
It is something I live.

—Reflections from a heart learning patience