When I put on an angry face, it’s not because I’m angry. When I put on this face, I am usually frustrated. My greatest frustrations are with myself. I ask myself deprecating questions like: Why am I so clumsy? Why can’t I remember to do this process correctly? How many times do I have to do a thing before I finally do it the right way? More often than not, the person I’m most frustrated with… is me.

As I grow older, I find myself bumping into frustration more often than I ever expected. I recently returned to work in the banking profession, a field I’ve known for most of my life. Yet the tasks that once felt instinctive now leave me wondering what on earth has happened to the muscle memory I used to rely on. It’s as if my brain occasionally misplaces its reading glasses and then pretends it never owned a pair.