For someone who writes about resilience, discipline, and the art of keeping one’s cool under pressure, you might think I have mastered the ability to stay composed at all times. Truth is, I lose my temper more often than I’d like to admit. I make snide remarks when I should hold my tongue. I get impatient when things don’t meet my expectations. I get frustrated with people, with myself, with circumstances.
If I’m being honest, I don’t write these articles because I’ve figured it all out. I write them as reminders of the person I want to be.
The Illusion of Zen
We love the idea of inner peace—of being untouchable by frustration, of navigating every situation with the grace of a seasoned monk. We meditate, read books on mindfulness, and set intentions to remain patient and present. And then, before we know it, we’re cursing at slow internet, rolling our eyes in a meeting, or snapping at someone who interrupted our train of thought. Zen, it turns out, is easier to aspire to than to maintain.
There’s an old Buddhist joke that goes: If you think you’re enlightened, go spend a week with your family. Nothing peels back the illusion of self-mastery like real-life interactions. Our most deeply ingrained habits and emotional reflexes tend to show up uninvited, proving that our journey toward balance is far from over.
Impatience: My Oldest Companion
I have high expectations for everything—my work, my team, myself. I demand excellence, and when things fall short, I feel an almost physical irritation rise up in me. I tell myself I should breathe, take a step back, be objective. But some days, my gut reaction is still to push harder, speak sharper, and demand more.
I know my impatience can be exhausting for my team. I want results yesterday. I want strategies executed at lightning speed. I’ve had to learn—the hard way—that not everyone moves at my pace, and that my way doesn’t always equal success. The irony, of course, is that I write about patience and process. I tell others to embrace the journey, and yet I struggle to do so myself.
The Choice We Always Have
One of the hardest lessons I’ve had to learn is that every moment of frustration, every reaction, is a choice. Wherever I find myself, it’s a consequence of the decisions I’ve made. Every twist and turn in my career, every setback and success, I was there. I had a choice. There is always a choice—at least, for those of us privileged enough to not be fighting for basic survival.
Psychologist Viktor Frankl, a Holocaust survivor, famously wrote: Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom. It’s a profound truth, but also an infuriating one—because it means that every time I let impatience get the best of me, I made a choice to let it happen.
The Comfort of Knowing We’re Not Alone
The reality is, I’m not alone in this. None of us are.
Steve Jobs was infamous for his short temper and impossible standards, yet he also pushed Apple to create some of the most innovative products in history. Anthony Bourdain was candid about his struggles with impulsivity and frustration, yet he channeled his raw energy into storytelling that changed the way we think about food and culture. Even the Dalai Lama, a figure of extraordinary patience, has admitted to moments of irritation and imperfection.
The difference between those who get stuck and those who move forward isn’t perfection—it’s awareness. It’s knowing when you’ve let frustration take the wheel and making the conscious effort to course-correct.
So, What’s the Answer?
I’d love to say I’ve cracked the code on how to stay calm at all times, but that would be a lie. What I have learned, though, is that there are ways to soften the edges of our impatience, to give ourselves a little more space between reaction and response.
- Meditation and Mindfulness – I meditate, not because I’m good at it, but because I need it. Some days, my mind races through to-do lists. Other days, I find that tiny space of stillness. Either way, it’s the practice that matters.
- Owning My Mistakes – I try to recognize when I’ve been too sharp, too impatient, too demanding. And when I do, I make it a point to acknowledge it—sometimes to myself, sometimes to the people around me.
- Seeking Perspective – Talking to mentors, colleagues, and friends reminds me that I’m not the only one wrestling with these things. And sometimes, hearing someone else’s struggles makes my own seem a little less dire.
- Accepting My Humanity – I’m never going to be perfect. I will have days where I handle everything with grace, and days where I absolutely do not. But as long as I keep trying, keep adjusting, keep learning, then maybe that’s enough.
A Work in Progress
I am laughably human. I am not as Zen as I aspire to be. But maybe Zen isn’t never losing your temper or always having the perfect response. Maybe it’s striving for balance while accepting the chaos. Maybe it’s about catching yourself in the act, taking a breath, and choosing—just a little more often—to respond with patience instead of frustration.
Maybe the goal isn’t to be perfect. Maybe the goal is just to be a little better than yesterday. And that, I think, is something worth working toward.