Thoughts About Faith and Hope.

"Good things come to those who wait” says a popular adage, but how long do we actually have to wait for good things to come?

On Monday, I fell victim to an episode of late night insomnia triggered by a mix of dry mouth and the uncomfortable sticky heat prevailing in my bedroom due to a lack of air conditioning in my apartment. 
The digital clock on the screen of my iPhone informed me that not that many hours had passed since I first laid down; birds were hours away from chirping their daily sun salutation out loud.
It was 1:57AM and still pitch black outside. The only source of light filtering through my polycarbonate bedroom walls came from a neighbor’s balcony decoration reminiscent of Christmas illumination on steroids. 
The coziness of the moment made me feel like it was actually all an illusion, but the uneasy thirst in my mouth testified against it, proving it was reality.

Flustered and a bit annoyed, I grabbed my glasses, got up from my bed and moved to the kitchen in search of a fresh glass of water with the hope to lower my body temperature and resume my deep slumber right where I left off without any additional disturbance until the shrieking noise produced by my alarm clock was set to scare me out of my rest and signal the start of my day. 

Unfortunately, my brain had other plans for me. As soon as I assumed my nightly fetal position, instead of activating a factory of dreams, I walked right into a racing thoughts workshop.
My eyes wouldn’t keep shut, drowsiness had packed its bags and left on a vacation, my gray matter went into overdrive. An interesting version of my anxiety had flared up. 
All of a sudden, the following question started tangoing with my neurons: “Good things come to those who wait, but how long do we actually have to wait for good things to come?”.

Generally, I am a fairly positive person. Not very patient, but I overcompensate with optimism and ambition, trying hard to fit the definition of a go-getter who doesn’t stop until she achieves her aspirations, even if I sometimes fail to fulfill my own high expectations. 
But as somebody who was raised Catholic and has grown out of religion in its traditional form, I couldn’t help but wonder “When does hope stop being faith and turn into straight up delusion?” 

There have been times in life when I have been faced with waiting times that were out of my control.
You know, exam results, possibility to travel during a pandemic, pending payments that exceeded cut offs from freelance clients that promised to pay within 30 days and never did. 
As frustrating as those were, I worked hard to find loopholes and ways to speed up the process like driving from Milan all the way down to Palermo to escape a summer of mosquitos and humidity, or sending a gazillion (threatening) emails to the accounting department of those companies until they paid me. 
As abstract as some of these moments can be, I always find a way to make it happen.
After all, those are instances that are fairly easy to circumnavigate, the secret is to strategize and follow up when possible. 
However, there are times when implications are so out of your control that no matter how big of an effort you put into something, the only way to survive the excruciating wait is to be hopeful. 
For example, when you are dealing emotionally with another person who has different plans than you, or waiting to heal from a broken bone. 

As crazy as what I am about to say sounds, injuries are a great opportunity to practice patience and faith because despite being able to manipulate the recovery time by introducing the best possible physiotherapy into your regime and routine, time is the only element able to dictate when the tissue will have fully regenerated.
The hiatus may feel never-ending to professional athletes —or even amateur ones— who dedicate their lives to the sport, but it’s necessary for their well-being.
If you are able to grip your passion and allow faith to drive you, things will fall right back into place in what will feel like a heart beat.

But what about when you keep trying something and you continuously fail? How many tries are too many tries? How long of a wait is sane? Does thinking about giving up make you less of a success story?
When does having faith in x result become poisonous and a roadblock to something bigger and better? 
Do good things really come to those who wait, or do they happen to those who go get them? 

Finally, two hours after my anxiety-induced psychosis, I fell back asleep but when I woke up those questions were still haunting me. Actually, even more dilemmas popped up in my mind. 

Are these existential quests the reason why so many people fall trap to cults? Blindly believe in religion? Attribute bad happenings to a higher power?
Honestly, I have no idea. But maybe I should meditate more.