Dear Tessa,
I’ve always believed patience was a good thing. I was taught that being patient meant being mature, understanding, and emotionally grounded. So when something feels difficult or uncertain, my instinct is to slow down, give it time, and trust that things will work themselves out. Lately, though, I’m starting to wonder if my patience is actually helping, or if it’s quietly keeping me stuck.
I tell myself that growth takes time. That people don’t change overnight. That relationships, situations, and transitions all have seasons that require endurance. And part of me still believes that. But another part of me is tired of waiting for clarity that never seems to arrive. I keep extending grace, hoping patience will eventually be rewarded, while ignoring how drained I feel in the meantime.
What’s confusing is that I don’t feel resentful, at least not openly. I feel understanding. I feel calm on the surface. But underneath that calm, there’s a low-level exhaustion that doesn’t go away. It’s the kind that comes from constantly telling yourself to hold on a little longer, to be reasonable, to not ask for too much too soon.
I’ve started noticing how often my patience asks me to stay quiet. To delay conversations. To postpone decisions. To put my needs on hold because now isn’t the right time. There’s always a reason to wait. Always a reason to be considerate. Always a reason not to rock the boat. And yet, the longer I wait, the more disconnected I feel from what I actually want.
I don’t want to be impulsive or unfair. I don’t want to confuse patience with avoidance or fear with wisdom. But I also don’t want to wake up one day realizing I spent years being patient in situations that were never going to meet me where I am. I’m starting to wonder if patience has become a way to avoid disappointment instead of a sign of emotional strength.
So how do you tell when patience is healthy, and when it’s just self-denial in a softer form? How do you know when waiting is wise versus when it’s costing you more than it’s giving back?
Signed:
A woman questioning her own endurance
Tessa’s Thoughts on the Subject
Patience is valuable, but it’s not meant to be limitless. Healthy patience has movement. It exists alongside effort, communication, and mutual growth. When patience becomes one-sided, when it only asks you to wait without offering progress, it stops being a virtue and starts becoming a burden.
A lot of women mistake patience for emotional maturity because they’ve been praised for being understanding and low-maintenance. You learn to tolerate uncertainty and delay in the name of being reasonable. Over time, patience can quietly turn into self-silencing, especially when you’re the only one adjusting while waiting for change that never quite arrives.
It’s also important to notice what patience is protecting you from. Sometimes waiting feels safer than confronting the possibility that something may not improve. Patience can keep hope alive, but it can also delay grief. As long as you’re waiting, you don’t have to fully face the truth of what you’re experiencing.
Healthy patience doesn’t require you to suppress your needs. It allows space for honesty, boundaries, and check-ins along the way. If being patient means consistently postponing your own feelings or minimizing your discomfort, that’s a sign worth paying attention to. Patience should feel grounded, not depleting.
You’re allowed to reassess your patience without turning it into a personal flaw. Wanting clarity, movement, or reciprocity doesn’t make you impatient. It makes you aware. Awareness often arrives before change, and it asks you to be honest about what you’re willing to continue waiting for.
Tessa’s Straight-Up Perspective
Here’s the truth. Patience should support your well-being, not slowly erode it. If waiting requires you to ignore your needs, delay your truth, or stay quiet to keep things comfortable, it’s no longer serving you. You don’t lose your integrity by deciding you’ve waited long enough. Sometimes the most self-respecting choice isn’t more patience. It’s clarity.
Disclaimer:
Dear Tessa is written woman-to-woman — honest, imperfect, and human. It’s meant to offer comfort, clarity, and perspective, not professional guidance. You know your life best.
