layout: post
title: When Impatience Burns Deep
permalink: /when-impatience-burns-deep/
by: JorDanee
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categories:
- Real Life
It’s January, and every day I feel the pull of something bigger—a life not stuck in the confines of a house, but a wild, rolling journey in our silver Airstream. Baby #2 is on the way, expected as soon as March gives way to April, and with each tick of the clock, the weight of our current life presses in.
I’m aching to be somewhere else. Not because I’m running away from life, but because I’m running toward a truth that has always whispered to me: I deserve to live fully, rawly, and beautifully. I yearn for the freedom to be a new mom in a place that honors who I am—a sanctuary where Alex can blossom from a little girl into the wise, brave big sister she’s meant to be. The vision of that silver home isn’t just a destination; it’s a promise to myself that we can choose a life unburdened by the past’s clutter.
In our pursuit of simplicity, we’ve already let go of so much—big furniture that once filled our 2200 sq ft life, now reduced to the essentials that will travel with us. Our spare room, once a quiet retreat, has become a battleground of memories and items that no longer serve us. Minimalism isn’t about perfection; it’s about courageously discarding the unnecessary to reveal the beauty of what remains.
The garage, once a treasure trove of our overlanding adventures, has morphed into a repository of dreams, plans, and all those parts that once represented endless possibilities. Some pieces will journey with us, like the trusty jerry cans holding extra fuel, while others—the rims and 35″ mud tires—will remain behind. Every day, I feel the simmering frustration at the sight of it all, a physical manifestation of the waiting and the “what ifs” that echo in my mind.
I’ve come to see that this impatience is more than a mere annoyance—it’s a raw, honest cry from within. It’s a mix of longing, frustration, and an urgent desire to reclaim my time and my truth. I feel the weight of it in every impatient sigh, every moment of anger that shadows my love for Mike, for Alex, and for the little life growing inside me. It’s a reminder that in the chase for a better tomorrow, I’m sometimes losing grip on the beauty of now.
Years ago, as I neared my Master’s graduation, I found myself entangled in a similar storm—waiting, hoping, and fighting against the tide of doubt. Back then, amid endless job searches and the sting of missed opportunities, I clung to a belief that someday, somehow, the universe would bend to my will. And it did: two unexpected job offers, a leap of faith to Florida, and a life transformed by that very impatience turned into action.
Today, that same spark lives within me. I know where I want to be. I know that these material chains will someday be shed, leaving behind only the soul of who we are. This isn’t just a physical journey—it’s a soulful migration toward a life of authenticity, courage, and yes, a little bit of beautifully messy impatience.
So, here I am, standing at the crossroads of now and later, fighting the urge to rush and instead embracing the pain and beauty of transformation. I remind myself that each moment, even the ones heavy with longing and frustration, is shaping the resilient, wild woman I’m becoming. And one day soon, when the Airstream becomes our home on the road, I’ll look back and see that every impatient step was exactly where I needed to be.