Patience is a...

Virtue that I've never developed. I don't know if this was something organic to me, or if it's something that I got from my parents. I suspect it's more the latter than the former, but it's my gigantic Achilles heel as a person. It was a problem in my marriage, I suppose, and it was certainly a problem during its decline: when you are an impatient person, how do you cope with the inability to fix things, the inability to demonstrably make things better? 

In the weeks since admitting that we were over, I was really making strides in this. Taking life as it comes, day after day. Then I encounter something that makes me happy for the first time in a year, and I lose all that again. My balance, my calmness. Even though it's for good reasons, I'm just as insecure, just as pathetic, just as self-doubting. Because, I suppose, that I've become so ingrained with the idea that I'm unlovable, or whatever, that I am quick to presume that's been the case. And there's not a lot of reason for me to think this, I admit. Signals trend in the right direction, for the most part, but I guess my self-esteem is still so low that I don't have a lot of faith in myself, or in anything.

Patience... is lost on me.