Regret for Dessert
Here I am again, in the same situation I’ve found myself many times before. The logistics are different, of course. But the ending is the same.
I miss my grandparents. And although traveling with the kids to visit them sometimes feels like more work than it’s worth, I had fully decided that I was going to do it Monday. The kids don’t have school Monday because it’s President’s Day, or a Professional Development day for the teachers, or something like that. The weather is supposed to be mid 70’s, which is unheard of for February. So, on Monday, I was going to load up the kids and drive to my grandparents and spend the whole day with them. Adam has to work anyway. So it was the perfect day to make the hour-long drive, just me and the kids, to spend quality time with my grandparents (their great-grandparents) on their land out in the country.
Well, at least I thought that was the plan.
Early this morning I received a text from our oldest’s piano teacher. It was kind and a common type of message. Nothing out of the ordinary. I have received similar texts like this from her in the past. This one read something like, “I’ve been looking at this week’s schedule and noticed that the kids don’t have school on Monday. Instead of teaching lessons in the evening this week, I was wondering if Emma could come during the day tomorrow instead. Anytime between 10-2:30. Just let me know!”
I stared at my phone while the same mental battle that I’ve known before went off in my brain.
Emma’s lessons are usually on Tuesday evenings. Her teacher already has Tuesday evenings blocked off because she always teaches on Tuesdays. It wasn’t until just now that she realized that school isn’t in session tomorrow, so she likely hasn’t made any new plans that would make the usual Tuesday lesson time not work.
Moreover, if she couldn’t actually teach Tuesday for some reason, she would cancel. She’s done that before. So, she must not truly need me to say “yes.” A “yes” would just be more convenient for her.
It seems like she probably just realized that if her students could do daytime lessons on Monday, she could be off work early and have her evenings free.
Heck, I don’t blame her at all!
That’s smart.
I probably would have done the same thing. (Well, I wouldn’t actually do it, because it might make someone feel pressured in some way. But I would definitely entertain the idea for a moment.)
But, wait a second. I really wanted to go visit my grandparents tomorrow, and if I tell her “yes” then there’s no way we would be able to go.
Well, you know, I haven’t actually told my grandparents anything about us coming yet, so they won’t be upset that I had to cancel. In fact, I haven’t told the kids either! So I’m the only one who will actually be disappointed. And I can deal with it. No big deal. I will get over it and find another day when the kids and I are free. That is becoming increasingly difficult to do with our busy schedules.. but wait. Stop thinking like that, Rachel.
“Sure. Emma can come over at 2 for her lesson tomorrow!”
“Great! See you then.”
Regret. Disappointment. Why did I just say “yes” to that?!?!
It’s not the piano teacher’s fault. She asked a simple question and I could have said, “no”. But, then why am I feeling a little frustrated at her for asking? She didn’t do anything wrong.
Adam tells me that sometimes I get frustrated with people when they do things like this, but I’m actually frustrated with myself that I don’t have the courage to do whatever it is that they are doing.
Adam’s right.
I’m mad at myself right now. I should have told her “no, I’m sorry we already have plans. But she’s looking forward to seeing you Tuesday evening!” But the people-pleasing-monster inside of me forcefully disconnects my heart from mind in these scenarios, and I completely lose touch with what I actually want.
TLDR:: I think I know what I want. And then I realize that what I want might make someone slightly perturbed with me. And that is NOT what I want. What I want then is for them to be happy with me, which means I “want” whatever it is that they want me to want. Then I do whatever it is that will make them happy with me. And I’m left with regret for dessert.
I’m currently reading “Present over Perfect” by Shauna Niequist, and in it she writes, “years ago, a wise friend told me that no one ever changes until the pain level gets high enough.” In this book, she’s specifically highlighting her journey from a hurried, frenetic life to a simpler one, with more purpose and presence of mind. However, the same truth certainly applies to those possessed by the people-pleasing-monster.
What I mean to say is, I’m bloody tired of being controlled by that monster. I’m tired of being disconnected from myself. I’m tired of having regret for dessert. And I hope that the pain level has gotten high enough.