I don’t know about you, but waiting has always been one of the hardest things for me. It’s that kind of season where time feels extra slow, and no matter how much I try to distract myself, my heart still goes back to the one thing
I’m waiting for. Sometimes it feels like I’m carrying something invisible and nobody else sees it, but I feel the weight every day.
I will be honest, waiting is easy for me when it’s for small things: a bus ride, a food order, or payday. But when the waiting is tied to something deeper—like an opportunity, an exam result, or even a prayer I’ve been holding onto for so long—it gets heavy. Really heavy.
There are nights when I lie awake thinking, what if it never comes? what if I’m not enough? what if all my efforts don’t lead anywhere? And to be honest, those thoughts hurt more than the waiting itself. It’s like fighting a battle inside my own head while trying to appear fine on the outside.
But here’s the thing I’m slowly learning: waiting is not wasted time. It feels frustrating, yes. It feels uncertain and sometimes makes me cry out of nowhere. But this process of waiting has this quiet way of shaping me. It teaching me patience, humility, and even faith. It’s as if life is reminding me, “You’re not in control of everything, but that doesn’t mean nothing is happening.”
I try to fill my days with little things like watering the plants in the morning, having coffee before work, or just sitting outside watching people pass by.
On good days, those simple routines make me grateful that life still goes on while I wait. On bad days, I allow myself to feel it all. To be sad, restless, and even frustrated. I think that’s okay too. We don’t always need to be strong; sometimes we just need to be real.
And maybe that’s what waiting is teaching me the most—that being human means feeling everything. The fear, the hope, the doubt, the faith. They all exist together.
If you’re also waiting for something right now, I hope you know you’re not alone. I know how it feels to carry that silent weight. I know the mix of excitement and fear, and how some days feel longer than others.
But I also believe that one day, the wait will make sense. Maybe not in the way we expect, but in a way that will make us say, “Ah, that’s why it took so long.”
Until then, let’s breathe through it. Cry if we must, laugh if we can, and keep moving forward even if slowly. The waiting is heavy, YES!—but maybe, just maybe, it’s also preparing us for something worth carrying.