You know that moment when you’re trying to describe someone — your coworker, your kid’s soccer coach, your cousin who’s always starting backyard projects — and you blurt out something like, “Oh, she’s just… so…” and then your brain freezes? Yeah, I’ve been there. (Ask my sister about the time I tried to explain why I trusted my mechanic. “He’s got, uh… good vibes?” Cringe.)
Back when I worked as a summer camp counselor in Colorado (think: 20 hyper 8-year-olds, 100-degree days, and enough bug spray to fumigate a small town), I realized character traits aren’t just vocabulary words. They’re survival tools. Take patience — not the “waiting in a Target checkout line” kind, but the bone-deep patience of helping a homesick kid named Jake braid friendship bracelets for 45 minutes while he tearfully explained why raisins are “the worst part of trail mix.” That summer taught me traits aren’t labels. They’re choices we make when life gets real.
Here’s what I wish I’d known when I started paying attention:
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Curiosity beats “smarts” every time. My neighbor Dave (retired mechanic, owns a ’97 Jeep Wrangler he’s rebuilt twice) once told me, “I don’t fix cars. I ask them what’s wrong.” Turns out, curiosity — that itch to poke at problems until they make sense — saved me when my dishwasher flooded last Thanksgiving. YouTube tutorials + 3 failed Home Depot trips later, I learned how PVC glue smells exactly like regret.
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Resilience isn’t about gritting your teeth. It’s about laughing when everything goes sideways. Like the time I tried to start a veggie garden and ended up growing a single mutant carrot that looked like Danny DeVito. My mom’s advice? “Next year, plant zucchini. They’ll grow if you glare at them hard enough.”
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Empathy’s messy… and that’s okay. I used to think being empathetic meant having all the right responses. Then I volunteered at an animal shelter and met a trembling rescue pup named Gus. The woman adopting him didn’t say much — just sat on the floor with him for an hour, silently sharing beef jerky. Sometimes “I get it” doesn’t need words.
The traits that surprised me most (good and bad):
- Adaptability: Moving from Texas to Minnesota taught me flexibility isn’t about loving change — it’s about wearing flannel-lined jeans in July without complaining.
- Stubbornness: My 3 a.m. IKEA dresser assembly crisis proved determination and stupidity are cousins. (Swedish instructions + sleep deprivation = life lessons.)
- Humility: That time I accidentally “complimented” my boss’s haircut by asking if her salon offered refunds. Yikes.
How to spot these traits in your own life (no psych degree needed):
- Think about your last “Why did I DO that?!” moment. My impulse buy of a $130 juicer (used twice) revealed my optimism-to-delusion ratio.
- Notice what makes you irrationally angry. Me? People who leave grocery carts in parking spots. It’s not about the carts — it’s about respect for shared spaces.
- Ask: “What’s my default setting in chaos?” During a power outage last winter, my husband built a blanket fort. I stress-baked 4 dozen muffins. We all cope differently.
A quick hack I stole from my kid’s 5th-grade teacher: Keep a “Trait Diary” for a week. Jot down moments when you or others reacted strongly. My Day 3 entry: “Lady at Starbucks let a stressed mom skip the line — kindness. Barista remembered my weird order (half-caf, oat milk, 1.5 pumps) — attentiveness.”
Oh, and forget those “Top 10 Traits Employers Want!” lists. Real character shows up in gas station parking lots at midnight when no one’s watching. It’s the dad teaching his daughter to jump a dead car battery, the teen who returns a dropped wallet to customer service, the older couple arguing over discount mulch at Lowe’s but still holding hands.
Your homework (if you want it): This week, name one trait you’ve seen in yourself — not what you wish you had, but what’s already there. Mine? I’ll own it: Enthusiasm. Last weekend, I convinced 7 friends to try pickleball. We sucked. Laughed till our cheeks hurt. Ordered pizza. That counts.
Character’s not a checklist. It’s the stuff that leaks out when you’re too busy living to notice. And hey — if all else fails, just ask Dave the Jeep guy. He’ll tell you over a Coors Light and a story about carburetors.