Hey, They Call Me Connie…

I’ve always referred to myself as a flower—so delicate handling is advised. Another thing I love about flowers is that their true beauty takes time. They don’t rush their bloom. They grow, unseen at first, roots deepening before petals ever meet the sun. And in a world obsessed with instant gratification, I think there’s something deeply powerful about that.

We want everything now—success, love, wealth, transformation—all on demand. And if it doesn’t come fast enough, we start questioning everything: our ability, our worth, whether we’re even meant for the life we dream of. But here’s what I’ve learned: real progress, the kind that lasts, is rarely fast.

The idea of slow progress used to frustrate me. I wanted to skip the process, jump straight to the results, bypass all the uncomfortable middle parts. But somewhere along the way, I realized that being at peace with the wait is actually one of the most powerful things you can do. There’s something oddly beautiful—maybe even abnormally sexy—about being content in the in-between. Maybe it’s the discipline of it, the quiet confidence of knowing that what’s meant for me is already in motion, even if I can’t see it yet.

And here’s the best part: it’s not like the waiting has to be boring. You can still have fun, still build, still enjoy life while trusting that what you’re manifesting is on its way. Slow progress gives you something to look forward to, something to grow into. Some of the things I once prayed for? They’ve already arrived, and I didn’t even notice at first because I was so focused on what was next.

That’s the thing about the art of slow progress—it humbles you. It teaches you patience, self-trust, and an appreciation for the journey. Because when the things you’ve been working toward finally show up, you’ll realize the wait wasn’t punishment. It was preparation.