Season 2 Episode 7 - Success, Stubbornness & Patience

This video is about Season 2 Episode 7 - Success, Stubbornness & Patience

Hi y’all, welcome to Still Stella – Living Life Sarcastically.

This podcast comes with a trigger warning: Extreme sarcasm and mild emotional violence.

Today we’re talking about success, stubbornness and patience.

Some of which I have plenty of.

Some of which I absolutely do not have.

I think we can all agree patience and I are more like acquaintances than close friends.

I mean, I have patience for puppies.

I have patience for little old ladies counting out exact change at the grocery store.

I have patience for my friends because Lord knows they put up with me.

But stupid? I have zero patience for stupid.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:02

Welcome to Still Stella. Living life sarcastically. Sarcastically. Hi y'all. Welcome to Still Stella. Living Life Sarcastically. This podcast comes with a trigger warning, extreme sarcasm, and mild emotional violence. Today we're talking about success, stubbornness, and patience. Some of which I have plenty of. Some of which I absolutely do not have. I think we can all agree patience and I are more like acquaintances than close friends. I mean I have patience for puppies. I have patience for little old ladies counting out exact change at the grocery store. I have patience for my friends, because Lord knows they put up with me. But stupid? I have zero patience for stupid. Traffic no patience. Work meetings that could have been an email? Absolutely not. People who reply all to the entire company straight to jail. I've reached the age where my tolerance for nonsense has become a luxury item. I don't know if that's wisdom or menopause. Honestly, it could be both. So how do you measure success? There are so many different ways. Some people measure success by money, some by promotions, some by material things. The nice house, the fancy car, the expensive clothes. The perfect social media pictures where everybody is smiling and nobody is threatening violence because dad won't stop making jokes. When I was younger, I think that's exactly how I measured success. Not because I wanted to be better than anybody else. I grew up without a lot. I think many of us Gen X kids did. We learned to appreciate what we had because there wasn't always more. So as an adult, I chased security. I chased promotions. I chased bigger projects. I chased the next paycheck. I wanted a nice house. I wanted my kids to have things I didn't. I wanted to know that if the washer machine died, I wasn't gonna have to perform CPR on it, hoping it'd come back to life. I wanted to pay the bills without holding my breath. I wanted stability. And honestly, there's nothing wrong with that. I think every generation wants to leave things a little better for their kids. But somewhere along the way, my definition of success changed. Don't get me wrong, I still like nice things. I still don't want to worry about bills. I would absolutely love to walk into Target and not spend two hundred dollars on things I didn't know I needed. But these days, success looks different. Success is freedom. The freedom to do things I want to do. The freedom to say no to things I don't want to do. Mastering the word no. That's success. Because when you're younger, you say yes to everything. Sure, I'll volunteer. Sure, I'll work late. Sure, I'll bake thirty cupcakes for school. Sure, I'll help you move. Now? Absolutely not. I have plans. Those plans might involve sitting on my couch and pajamas watching crime documentaries while eating cheese. But they are plans. Success is protecting your peace. Success is finding your people. The people who show up. The people who love you. The people you don't have to pretend around. Hm. The ones you may not talk to every day, but if your world fell apart, they'd be there in a heartbeat. And you'd do the same for them. That's true wealth. You know what else changed? My definition of rich. When I was younger, rich meant enough money to buy whatever you wanted. Now rich means sleeping through the night. Rich means you don't your knees don't sound like microwave popcorn. Rich means your favorite bra still fits. Rich means finding a close parking spot. Rich means unloading the dishwasher without needing a nap afterward. Rich means nobody from work calls you after five o'clock. I don't need a mansion. I'd settle for a recliner, a margarita, and everybody leaving me alone for three hours. That's luxury. Gen X was told we could have it all. Turns out all included anxiety, back pain, and seventeen passwords we just can't remember. I have several friends dealing with health issues. Success for them would simply be waking up and feeling good. Not wondering if they'll have enough energy to enjoy the day. Not wondering what pain level they're gonna deal with. Not wondering if they'll have to cancel plans. I understand that. I battle chronic illness every day. Maybe not the same exact struggles, but I understand carrying invisible burdens. I watch these amazing people navigate life with humor and grace. They're the real heroes. That's success. Showin' up anyway. Speaking of showing up work sweet baby Jesus, work is drainin'. I can't anymore. I dream about retirement the way teenagers dream about summer vacation. I'm so over it. I swear work has become one giant group project. And nobody likes group projects. There's always one person doing all the work, one person missing, one person showing up at the end asking, so what are we doing? Sir We are carrying you again. I spend my days tracking projects and people. Did you do this? Did you send that? Did you answer the email? Did you make the call? I'm basically a professional hall monitor for adults. Hm. I don't want to touch base. I don't want to circle back. I don't want to synergize. I want to retire and aggressively mind my own business. Maybe play bingo. Now don't laugh. Have y'all heard of loco bingo? Regular bingo? And a nightclub had a baby. Music lights dancing drinks chaos. I loved every second. Hubby? Not so much. I was dancin' and singin', chair dancing, living my best life. Hubby was sitting there looking at me like he'd never met me before. Bless his heart. He was probably wondering if it was too late for an annulment. I think that's success too, finding joy in ridiculous places. Maybe that's why I'm so tired of work. I want everything done immediately. My way. I can walk past a basket of laundry for three days. But work it has to be finished. I think I have selective OCD. Now let's talk about stubbornness. I've been stubborn my whole life. As a kid, I knew everything. Nobody could tell me anything. Turns out I was wrong frequently. The first incident I remember was when I was little. We lived in an apartment complex. There were those rainbow monkey bars with broken glass underneath. A stranger told me to be careful. I said I've got this. Looking back, why didn't somebody pick up the glass? But little me wasn't worried. I was practically an Olympic gymnast. Turns out I wasn't. I was more like a potato with confidence. I kept climbing, hung upside down, you know, showing off. Then I fell face first into the glass. I remember running home with an adult trying to help me. I jerked away because apparently I was gonna bleed independently. I still have scars. Childhood confidence is wild. Fast forward hot rollers. If you've never seen 'em, imagine a tiny crock pot of lava. They were plugged in, cords stretched across the room. Naturally, I decided to run laps around the table, jumping over the cord. Several successful jumps. Then failure. My foot caught the cord boiling water down the back of my leg. Hospital ice pain. Guardian angel probably clogged out that day. I spent weeks trying to take baths with one leg in the air. I guarantee I had opinions. I just wasn't consulted. You'd think I would have learned Nope. Stubbornness was my personality. Then I had kids. And suddenly I wondered where they got it. Duh the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Nowadays I know I don't know everything. Some days I don't know anything. Rain fog is humblin'. I walk into rooms and forget why. Open the refrigerator. Stare close it. Walk away. Come back and open it again. I've looked for my glasses while wearin' em. Looked for my phone while talking on it. Forgotten names during introductions. I don't know what's happening. I just know we're all in this together. Week thirteen of Hubby Home Watch Over ninety days. We finally have a surgery date. The waiting has been awful. He's stressed, nervous, anxious, and his biggest concern? Not showering for three days. Honey, you'll be sleeping. I'm the one who has to smell ya. I get it though. Surgery is scary. Waiting is scary. The unknown is scary. We're traveling an hour away for surgery because medical care around here isn't exactly stellar. Hopefully he'll sleep the whole drive home. Then begins hubby patient recovery. Pray for me. Send snacks. No, send rum. In fairness, when I had my second knee replacement and complications, he took good care of me. He administered IV antibiotics. He showed up. He surprised me. I was grateful. So now it's my turn. I'll take care of him. I'll be patient. I'll try to remember that I was probably a basket case before surgery too. I'm just glad we're getting them fixed. And no, I don't mean spade. That ship sailed years ago. I guess that's what this episode is really about. Success, stubbornness, patience. When you're y when we're young, we're stubborn, because we think we know everything. Life teaches us patience. Success isn't the biggest paycheck, the nicest house, the fanciest car. Success is surviving hard seasons, laughing through chaos, showing up for people you love, having friends who check on you, having a partner who takes care of you. Learning to say no. Learning to ask for help. Learning that those adults warning us about broken glass actually knew something. Life teaches lessons, sometimes gently, sometimes by throwing you face first into broken glass or dumping boiling water down your leg. Apparently, subtle wasn't my learning style. But here we are, still standing, still laughing, still stubborn as ever, still Stella. Marry your lobster, drink the rum, listen to the people warning you about broken glass, and hug the friends who don't secretly root against you. Thank y'all for listening. If y'all enjoyed today's chaos, follow or subscribe so you don't miss next week's episode. Share it with your real ones. And remember, success isn't having your life together. Success is making it through another week without ending up in the emergency room because you thought, I've got this. Y'all take care. Thank you for listening to Still Stella Living Life Sarcastically.