I Dare You to Stop Being a Brat
Learning how to let grace wash over your plans and not whine too much about it
That afternoon in June of 2022, I was force-fed an enormous red pill, exposing me to a harsh truth about myself I guess I must have been ready to face.
The sun was leaking in from all directions. At the peak of this drama-filled moment, I was sitting on the edge of my beloved 1960s antique dining table — with gold-trimmed inlaid mirrors and spanning about seven-feet-long, it carried a stark presence and alluring intensity that mirrored how I would’ve described myself back then, too. My heavy, awkwardly imposing tears were falling a great distance to gloss over my exposed thighs like warm tanning oil, and the skin beneath my knees was clinging onto the table like it was a life-saving raft keeping me afloat despite the sinking ship I was still gripping onto. I could barely see straight, partially because what was left of my focus was aiming at my distorted reflection in the mirror beneath me, and partially because I was desperately trying to not have a panic attack in front of him.
To this day it’s impossible for me to regret my behavior in that absurd and painful moment — Poor Little Me! I was watching what I believed was my God-given destiny begin to hate me. This destiny, of course, was a man I was foolishly certain would be ‘mine’, a character that had appeared to me in my childhood meditations and fantasies as “my person”. It really appeared to be that kismet. My person had found me, and in perfect timing — I was not-too-old, attractive, free from much of my previous responsibilities, and in ownership of a house that was way too big and expensive for just me.
But now he was retreating! How?! I was disturbed that someone else’s free will could cut such sharp lines through my precious (and divinely orchestrated, may I add) plans.
I will never forget feeling the incision of his parting words, an emergency operation performed with scalpels of love and revenge. After just implying that he was leaving me (though without any verbal communication on the matter), this man then put his hands on my damp knees, dropped his face to meet me eye-to-eye, and said,
“Take a good look at yourself — this is how you behave when you don’t get what you want?”
These words were like the cab someone puts you in on a rainy evening right after composing a forever-goodbye — strung together, they played the part of an honorable-enough gesture to try to get me back home. The moment offered an invaluably precious gift, but was wrapped in skin-burning acid. All to say, ultimately his words were kind, but they were fucking brutal to receive.
Every so often I am reminded just how unskilled I am at not getting what I want. Some may call this being a brat, but I think it’s the seed of my own spiritual narcissism sprouting roots into my worldview. To be diligent in my pursuit of being a decent person, I must be constantly weeding. Beneath that polished perspective, I cringe to admit that I’m actually pretty afraid to not get what I want because maybe then I’ll discover that I’m destined to walk a painful path that leads to nowhere particularly spectacular.
You may be wondering, “is not getting what you want really a skill, Fiona?” Yes. Yes it is.
Being able to gracefully not get what you want is like being able to do a pirouette in ballet: it takes balance, coordination, and control. You gotta be smooth, though not in a performative way, but still in a practiced way. You have to be able to let grace wash over your plans without whining too much about whatever happens to them.
Maybe you’re not going to get what you want regardless of your reactions, but for me I still might slip into existential uncertainty, or get piss-drunk off a persistent inner rage. Sometimes I quite simply don’t know how to digest that my will is not aligned with the broader will of life itself, and am certain someone in the assembly line of my perfectly designed life fell asleep or forgot their role. When I don’t get what I want, I often feel confused, annoyed and betrayed (x100).
There was a moment in my life after that massive heartbreak where I learned how to actually live from a surrendered place. That afternoon in June, the man that broke my heart got on his bicycle and rode 1,600 miles to get away from me, and somehow I began a journey of learning about non-attachment. After the sting of the heartbreak wore off, I found a stunning view of inner peacefulness, and such a profound relief to finally let go of my attachment to attachment.
But then I just kept letting go and go until my will left with my attachments, until I’d lost all of my financial savings and stopped caring to make money at all. Eventually I had to sell my house, but still I was blissfully surrendered to some will beyond my own. In hindsight, though, I see that I’d traded learning how to float for remembering when to swim. My muscles stopped reacting to the demands of living as a person in society, and though I wasn’t depressed, I know I wasn’t fully alive either. To live fully is to labor in some pursuit, to dig looking for gold while making peace with dust.
The much-anticipated start of spring this year has been marred by a string of mishaps that I carved into glorious tragedies. Life enrolled me back into the school of not-getting-what-I-want, and I think I might have graduated this semester with a C. But I did pass, and it did pass.
I have been in denial about symptoms appearing to slow me down! Perpetually annoyed with my loving partner! Unforgiving of all forms of obligation! Eventually the skin around my eyes puffed up and peeled off entirely, revealing something raw and fundamentally tired, while forcing me to accept the appearance of a moment not employed by my persistence. I was forced to let go but no longer entitled enough to fully pause. What a recipe for humility.
Fortunately, there are still people around to check me, though less violently. My therapist, after listening to me complain for most of a session then judge myself for it, gently shared with me a personal anecdote of how he sometimes must point out to his eleven-year-old son when he’s wallowing over a ‘princess problem’. My beloved partner mostly intuits when to serve me a soothing cup of patience and when to serve me something spicy. And now, that gold-trimmed ego playing God inside of me knows better than to take it all so seriously. Whenever I am blessed to not get what I want, I am reminded that humor is the language of grace. The fleeting moment demands that I make fun of myself.
Below are some ways to engage with my work, and some of my favorite things:
Career Coaching
To me, the benefits of coaching are often in discovering your own resourcefulness, activating your latent courage, and building compassionate awareness for your own human experience. I bring an adaptive presence that will follow the current of your session’s unfolding, while also poking into your inner landscape intuitively with a gentle but firm curiosity. We will explore the nuances of your belief systems and various identities with precision and levity. Prepare for many metaphors and giggles.
Mediation + Conflict Guidance
Here’s my website to learn more, and a link to book an intake session (which you could also use as a one-off 1:1 session to ask for conflict guidance and advice). I offer conflict coaching as well, and am able to meet you in your persistent anger or stuckness so that you can move towards productive communication, resolution or forgiveness.
Give a gift, get a coaching session
I’ve been wanting to bring this back for a while, and finally got it up and running! Here’s an option to get a single coaching session, for the price of a gift. I’m delighted to offer a session at a sliding scale, and even more delighted to get a gift in the mail. Feel free to use this option to get support in career or conflict challenges.
Be extra nice to me
If you’ve been enjoying my work and want to pay-it-forward in a small way, here’s a link to buy me a coffee (I have discovered that it is impossible for me to maintain a humble coffee budget. Please help ;)
What is one thing you are willing to apologize for?
I just completed a training with Ken Cloke, and wow have I been blown away: he is a saintly presence in the world of conflict. Watch this video to get a powerful inquiry you get to keep in your conflict toolbox. I highly recommend reading anything he’s written, or taking his mediation training that he offers once a year.
xoxo —
Fi
P.S. — I changed my newsletter back to its original name of ‘Seventh Day’, because I missed it. Pardon the temporary incongruence with the rest of the design here. <3
It is very cool to see your evolution.