On certainty, patience, and trusting time to reveal what it always would.

I can’t decide if I should be annoyed with or thankful for all the time I’ve spent trying to help things become what they already were going to be. 

Situations.

Project. 

People.

Questions. 

For a long time, I thought that the quicker I figured something out, the better the outcome. 

If I understood it first, solved it first, or even found an explanation that worked, somehow I could control the pace. 

Though looking back, I’m not entirely sure if what I thought winning looked like was what was actually happening. 

Because life, with all its ups and downs, has a funny way of becoming what it’s already becoming. 

Whether I’m spending hours thinking about it or barely give it the time of day, some things simply need to unfold in their own time. 

Not because they don’t matter.  

But because they were never mine to rush. 

Some things aren’t asking to be solved. They only want time.

I’ve realized that what I thought was a need for control wasn’t actually control at all.

It was certainty. 

Control says, “I can make this happen.” Certainty says, “I just want to know what’s happening.” 

I’ve realized that so much of my energy wasn’t spent on the outcomes. It was spent trying to force them to arrive before they were even meant to. 

Giving answers before answers were ready.

Understanding people before seeing enough of them. 

Deciding how something will end before it has a chance to start. 

Looking back, I can see where I never had any peace from it. It made me feel responsible for things that were never intended for me to carry. 

Because no matter how quickly I thought about something, or how swiftly I came to a conclusion, that never impacted the speed of someone else’s actions. 

No amount of overanalyzing or preplanning would ever reveal tomorrow any sooner. 

And no amount of self induced worry could replace what time already had in store for me. 

Somewhere along the way I had to decide to stop asking every unanswered question to become today’s problem. 

Not because I stopped caring.

Not because I magically became patient. 

But because life already proved the same thing over and over again. 

Answers will always come. 

Not always when I want them. 

Not always in ways I expect. 

But come they do. 

Sometimes it’s through a random thought. 

Sometimes it’s through someone’s actions. 

And sometimes it’s through letting enough time pass that what once felt confusing is now suddenly obvious. 

It’s a slow process, but I’m learning to trust that if something truly needs my attention, life has a way of making sure it finds me.

Until then, maybe I can let go of the questions that time is already working on. 

Maybe that’s what life was trying to teach me all along.

Not to stop caring. 

Not to stop paying attention. 

But stop believing that every unanswered question belongs to today. 

Some things really do need some effort. 

Others simply don’t. 

And maybe that’s the art of leaving things alone. 

Not because they don’t matter, but because they do. 

Some things are simply better left to the hands of time. 

Trusting that has brought me more peace than forcing an answer ever could. 

More soon,

Quill