It would probably be accurate to say that I (like many of us) am my own worst enemy. Regardless of my progress and my successes, I demanded more of myself. There was nothing wrong with that. The problem stemmed from how I applied my expectations. I was, after all, a professional adult who had achieved much to this point in life. It's hard to square that with finding yourself basically an adolescent at the same time. The contrast of growing up (again) at the same point it's time to start thinking about things like midlife cancer screenings is jarring. There were plenty of facets of life where I felt what I know wasn't all that I'd be expected to. Maybe that's true. Perhaps not. But when even simple things like presenting a proper, professional adult appearance were hard at times, it was an easy conclusion. You'd think someone my age would have it down, right?
Certainly I've never been renowned for my patience. This, though, was more than impatience: a lamentation of progress I hadn't made yet, the things in my life that I felt like I should have already done. Patience is surely part of it, but pushing myself to the edge of, and occasionally beyond, my ability to deal is also.