Here we are in another hotel room. William is at his client’s office, and I’m stuck here without a car and without focus. The few weeks we’ve been here, I’ve been organizing and micromanaging – drawers organized, kitchenette stocked, towels, toilet tissue and Kleenex stockpiled, and laundry and dry-cleaning services researched.
In the last few days, I’ve increased my controlling methods, extending them into William’s work, which I do know a lot about, but in which I have no official involvement. He’s being good about it. Listening to my suggestions and incorporating what he can. He’s rejected a few ideas, which made me furious.
Our grown son missed a couple of scheduled calls and I want to read him the riot act about accountability and responsibility. He’s been involved in a friend’s wedding and has been distracted. Of course, I’m right, but going off on him is not going to remedy his lack of focus and will only exclude me from the wedding pictures and news of the happy events that occurred.
Obviously, I’m triggered by something. But… what?
I’m writing on my latest book, texting with friends from time to time, keeping up with the daily chores, etc. So, I’m functioning at a high level, but I’m doing it all from inside what I call the Box. A big vice has me in its grip and I’m not sure in this moment where it came from or what I need to do to get out of it. I can’t remember a single tool. Haven’t read a book, meditated, or done any of the exercises that normally release me from the Box I’m in. And, I don’t want to.
There’s something about the Box with a capital B that feels familiar. I’m happy here in my unhappiness in some strange way. Something about it is compelling and comforting while at the same time tense and disconcerting.
It is power. I feel power over my situation. I feel that I am in control. The Box is my control. Sitting in the Box is safe – unhappy, but safe. Safe from what?
In writing this, I’ve tricked the Box. It is a tool that I slip into because it is even more familiar and comforting than the Box. It is a release of sorts that allows me to rise up above the Box and observe it. From this perspective, I can see into the situation to discern what I’m safe from when I’m in the Box? What is it?
It’s being constantly let down, underserved, and disrespected. It’s not that people in the travel industry don’t want to take care of your needs, most do. It’s that they are imperfect humans. Yes, some are lazy, some are untrained, some have no work ethic, but mostly they’re living their lives and they are not perfect in every moment. Therefore, when you need something that’s part of the service that they are there to provide, they often fall short or fail. That repeated failure is the trigger. It feels like poor service. It feels intentional. It feels like disrespect – a trigger for me.
I start to go into the “If only” playbook. If only that person would vacumn the floor, take out the trash, check me into the hotel faster, key the room card properly, etc. etc. On and on until I Box myself into unhappiness with each tiny disrespectful flaw in service to the busy traveler.
Next is the “Don’t they realize” playbook. Don’t they realize what travelers need? Don’t
they realize that it’s their job? Don’t they know that the proper way to do XYZ is XYZ? I proceed to make my point with them and tension creeps into the atmosphere. Loved ones around me feel it. They are powerless to fix it, and may not even realize what they are participating in. Their lack of involvement feels like more disrespect, and I turn to micromanaging them and holding them responsible for perfection. Anything short is a crime and needs to be pointed out.
Love goes when I’m in the Box. But I do love those near to me. It’s part of what keeps me working to get out of the Box. I don’t feel when I’m shoving those words at the people I love. Emotion is shut down and I just open my mouth and project while on autopilot. I often spew words at them without consideration for their feelings or love in my heart for them. I don’t value them and their talents and skills. I do to them what I feel is being done to me.
I’ll do anything while I’m in the Box short of physical violence. I’ve learned to draw that line on violence, so if that’s true, I can draw another line. A new line. Or, I can move the line further and further away from the harmful acts I commit while in the Box. I can move the line closer to love and compassion. Maybe one day, I can completely move out of the Box.
Here’s to hope,
Maryclara
