I'm not one much for labels. They only seem to cover one part of a person, but The Guy likes to tell me I'm an endurance athlete. I think that's pretty accurate, in many different ways.
I've lived most of my life, having to endure things. I'm not particularly patient, but I am diligent and if there is one thing I can do, it's endure. When I was younger, I endured the death of my mom, and the indentured servitude of my abusive legal guardians, my "lost" angry years, an abusive marriage (since I thought that's what I deserved) and the four years I spent reading, journaling and working on my self-esteem issues and insecurities, so that I would never again think I deserved an abusive relationship.
I counted down the hours and days until Stinky regained consciousness from her meningitis, and the minutes that seemed like hours for the tornado to slam into our basementless house and move on.
Here is a lone boxcar.
So, now that I know I can do it and I try to actively keep as much bad stuff out of my life as I can control, I don't worry so much about being happy and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Instead, I count the minutes of my brutal trainer work-out or the miles of my relaxing after work run. Every once in a while, I regret the time I wasted in bad situations in the past, but mostly, I'm too busy "enduring" the fun and athletic life I've worked so hard to create.