I used to think that waiting was something to survive.
Lately, I’m learning that waiting is a place a place where hope resides, where patience is constantly tested, where discipline is formed, and resilience quietly grows.

But what happens when one stays in this place called waiting, and days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years?

Long-term waiting changes you. It seeps into your identity and, at times, it suffocates you the brutal, silent struggle of waiting. Some days I wake up motivated and hopeful; other days, I have to push myself just to make it out the front door. And the strange part is that as a junior physician, one is still expected to perform impeccably, regardless of the silent battles being fought beneath the surface.

One truth I learned the hard way is this: no one is coming to save you.
Because of that, I had to decide how I wait how I show up for myself, just as I go above and beyond for others. That realisation marked the beginning of my commitment to rediscovering myself, even while I continue to wait.

Rediscovering Myself in the Waiting

So I began asking different questions.

Who am I when I am not chasing the next milestone?
I am a beautiful, talented young woman. A best friend. A daughter. A sister. A wife. A believer in Christ.

What parts of me went quiet while I was living in chronic survival mode?

In the waiting, I dimmed my light to accommodate other people’s misconceptions. I swallowed my opinions, kept a smile fixed on my face, and told myself I should be grateful grateful for the opportunity, grateful for being allowed into the room at all. Being constantly busy once gave me a sense of purpose, but it came at the cost of presence of quality time with the people I love most.

Along the way, I began to ask myself: what is the purpose of attaining accolades and conforming to social expectations if, in the process, I am losing myself and my principles?

My breaking point came when I started experiencing mini panic attacks whenever I was asked the question, “So, who are you, and why are you here?”
The dizziness, the inability to articulate myself this was not who I was. Something had to change.

So I began to fight for myself.

The truth is, I am still fighting for myself even as I wait.

Hope, Practiced Quietly

Despite the waiting, my hunger to rediscover who I am has only grown stronger. I no longer carry the burdens of the day back home with me, knowing how deeply they disrupt the harmony and joy I have prayed over my household. I hold my head high now. I have made peace with where I am, reminding myself that this season is temporary that I am closer than I think.

I am not the same person I was at the beginning of this wait.
And honestly I love the person I am becoming because of it.

If you, too, find yourself in this place called waiting, know this:
you are not alone.