Patience is Becoming Me

I have always wanted to improve my skills in patience. I believe that patience is the key to understanding so many things, so many people, and so much of life in general.

But man, is patience hard to hold on to. It is a slippery, slippery virtue to hold on to.

My entire life right now, due to the amount of chaos it contains, requires immense amounts of untapped-into patience. Patience I didn't know could even exist in a person.

I have discovered something certain about myself. I have a much higher rate of success, at anything, when I'm challenged. So when approaching a near fatal meltdown in the search of patience, I turned it into a challenge. When reaching the brink of tears for the third time that day, I would turn to "Lauren, can you really not do this? Are you really giving up right now?"

I can't think of anything in the world I hate more, than admitting defeat. So the battle rages on.

What am I talking about?

I am talking about everything. I am talking about trying to catch a bus in a snowstorm, and after walking the half-mile to the bus stop and wiping out 3 different times, watching the bus whiz by you at the very last second. Only to get to a class 45 minutes away, that unbeknownst to you, has been canceled. The bus scenario alone, has driven me to the point of near mental breakdowns on numerous occasions each day. Missing them, getting on the "short routes", losing my bus pass (during a wipe out), not having the correct change, buses that stop running before I am out of work, catching them at 5:30 a.m. only to still arrive late to work. It's enough to drive a person mad. But still I battle with succumbing to the idea of a car. It's public transportation right? I am the public, I need to be transported. People do it every day, all their lives. Why am I better than any of the people I work with that take the bus to and from...wherever they're going?
I believe in trying to reduce the damage to the environment, buses do that.
I believe there are too many cars on the road and not enough carpooling, buses work against that.
I believe that I should not succumb to the hustle and bustle and the need for immediacy that our society thrives on and that cars feed into.

But. I've fought this battle with every last sprint, every last fight against tears of frustration, and with every last laugh of hysteria that I got.

And now I also believe, I should be able to get to work on time, and home from work on time.
I believe I should be able to get groceries without asking a roommate or friend to drive me there.
I believe I should be able to do something that would take me an hour, in...well...an hour, not three.
I believe bus drivers are evil.

Ok, maybe not really on that last one. When a girl is huffing and puffing, covered in snow and almost coughing up blood...let her sit down despite the fact she doesnt not have this so-called "correct" change.

Anyway. I'm giving up the good fight. I'm getting a car. Call me a sell out, but call me it behind my back, I can't handle the defeat.

Yes, I just ranted about buses for almost an entire blog. And you know what? it feels wooonnderful!

But the battle of holding on to that patience doesn't stop there. It only begins with the bus, it takes its full toll on me when I arrive at where the bus is bringing me. Work.

I love both of my jobs. But today, I found myself extremely jealous of those sitting behind a desk, committed to a routine, and working with paper and computers, and not whiney, stubborn, needy people.

Yea, I said it.

For one week, I would like to drive a car...to a parking space...walk to my cube, sit down, and type-tippity-type away on my computer from 9 o'clock a.m. to 5 o'clock p.m. Where I would then say, welp, today is done! Walk back to my car, maybe meet some other cubicle-shaped friends for a nice little happy hour, and go home to chat about what I am doing on my weekend that doesn't consist of any homeless people, or any staying up all night, or any chance that someone might call me in somewhere, sometime, somehow.

But then, would I feel more in control, or more controlled?

Today, I almost threw one of the guys I usually chat it up with, out of the shelter. i got called in to work a grave, after working at the shelter that morning and then at Imagine that afternoon. Then this morning was filled with unhappy faces, whining, and straight up (excuse me) bitching. Near the end of the morning, I walked into the atrium to find Joe getting loud and making a "I'm going to pound your face in" motion with his hands. So I walked up to him and said over his voice "Cut it OUT, cut it out RIGHT now, I don't want to SEE it, I don't want to HEAR about it, I'll throw you out of here." He just looked at me, tried to defend himself complaining that one of the other guys stole stuff out of his car. You know what? I DON'T CARE. No patience for street-guy, tough-guy, take-it-outside bull. I cut him off, telling him if he says one more word about it, I'll put him out for that too, that I don't care and I dont want any of it in this shelter.

He shut-up and walked away. Amazing what a little respect built up over the past couple months can do.
I then hid away in the office, announcing to the rest of the staff, that I no longer feel like talking to homeless people this morning. They understood.

But this is when I noticed that my little pocket of stored up patience wasn't as accessible as usual.

Then I go to Imagine. The car I get assigned to is a royal piece. I drive to pick up a little girl I've never worked with before. I ntice, hey, feels like the power steering is gone. And oh, look at that...the temp gauage is sky-rocketing towards that lovely red "H". I pull over and call the other staff I'm working with, she says she's coming to get the little girl, Channing and I.

In the meantime, Channing is rambunctious and complaining that she is hungry and doesn't have a snack. I tell her I don't have food, or money. She tells me she has to go to the bathroom. I fall for it. I take her, brilliantly, into a conveniance store. I learn, Channing doesnt have to go the bathroom, Channing is manipulating me with every passing moment.
Channing then grabs a banana, looks at me and my pathetic attempt at getting her to put it down, and books it for the door.

Now, do I explain to the cashier what is going on and let Channing take off into the parking lot, or do I become an accomplice to the crime and chase her out the door.
I chose the latter, luckily she didn't go far before she stood grinning outside the door. I spent the next five minutes explaining to her that its not our banana, and that that is not o.k. I took the banana back in and just kind of shrugged at the cashier. So she touched it, you peel them anyway.

The rest of the day consisted of chasing her around the building, sliding under bathroom stalls that she locked to find her standing on top of the toilet. And then pulling the car over on the side of the highway numerous times to get her to sit down and "show me her feet". I found myself making requests through gritted teeth and welled up tears one second, and then laughing hysterically with her the next while she made funny faces at me in the rear view mirror.
My one accomplishment...in the beginning of the 20 minute car ride, she informed me "I hate the car". I told her, hate is a strong word, and she should be careful when she uses it. And that maybe she should say, "I don't like the car" instead. And of course, she did. Just to make sure I understood on my level, I guess.
But after a couple stops on the side of the highway, a couple battles won by me, and a game of her hiding out of my view and jumping back up with a rediculous face ready to scare me, she then informed she didn't want to get out of the car. Sucess!

Small successes, but I'm learning in order to survive this job, those have to feel huge.

When i arrived back at Imagine, again feeling like I had failed at my day, Kate greeted me with "I think you did an awesome job with Channing today." All that weight was lifted again.

I don't know if these things the staff syas to me are true, or if they were trained on how to keep new staff around with what to say and exactly when.

Either way, it's working.

And after defeat, and exhaustion, and teary eyes, and sprinting, and begging, and maneuvering, and gritting teeth, and swallowing pride, and taking bites, slaps, and scratches, and deragatory comments, and manipulation, and long cold walks...i was walking home from the bus stop the other night, and I found myself smiling. I couldn't think of why. Just that it was nice out, and a good song was on on my ipod, and I was just...smiling.

I was smiling because through battles lost and won, the war with patience is turning to victory.
And patience, is becoming me.