You won’t change what you tolerate
My mantra to find balance between change and acceptance.
Acceptance of what I can’t change…
My partner went decaf. She’s replaced her caffeine fix with a certain type of mushroom infused decaf coffee. She bought a French Press and merrily ritualises her process every morning. Boiling the kettle, using a spoon to measure out the right amount of ground coffee, anxiously waiting to press the plunger down at the right moment. A new way to enjoy her morning brew. She wakes before me and so by the time I get to the kitchen this process has been completed.
She’s pleased with herself. I’m happy for her.
What I’m not happy about is the volume of coffee granules that seem to escape during this activity. Fleeing their destined purpose for the baron wasteland of our kitchen surfaces. I feel them underneath my bare feet by the fridge. I spot them in crevices by the stove. I fish them out of dishes drying by the sink.
This irritates me. Firstly, why are so many of these shroom grains not being successfully transported from packet to spoon to the French Press? Secondly, why is the spillage not being cleared up?
I have raised this with her. “Can you please wipe the surfaces…” She groans a little like a teenager but promises she’ll try. But selective deafness is possibly at play. Or her ADHD tendencies scuppering her best intentions. The granules remain…
So each morning before I prepare my own breakfast, I wipe and clear and tidy up the remnants of her coffee production.
I have this mantra, ‘you won’t change what you tolerate,’ not only to remind myself that if I want something to be different then I have to stop tolerating it. But also to remind me that if I’m tolerating something and not changing it then I should find a way to be at peace with it. I should stop complaining about it.
So what are my options?
If I’m truly fed up with clearing coffee granules I could leave the mess and keep nagging her about it (moving dangerously closer to becoming her mother). I could collect them in my hands and scatter them inside her side of the bed (this seems childish and somewhat excessive). I could hide her coffee until she begs and pleads and promises to clear up after herself (I feel like a dictator now. Also this would never work, she’d just go and buy some new granules).
No. I am not her mother, or a child, or an egomaniac. I am her loving partner and this is not worth a fight over.
(Just in case you’re worried that there’s some deeper, more ominous issue at play here, this really is just about coffee granules. Somewhere in the mix I could be dredging up a historical gripe that she does less in the kitchen than I do but I’m clutching. Like any normal couple we have niggles but our relationship is strong. I’m using this example as an illustration of balancing my need for change against acceptance of that which I can’t control.)
In fact, I loved how she told me about discovering this brain power coffee, and the healthy benefits it professed to manifest in her. She had asked to detour on one of our morning walks to find a shop that sold a French Press. Excited to get brewing. I felt warmth in my chest to be able to say, “absolutely, let’s find that for you.”
I choose to tolerate this messy quality of hers because I don’t want to change this for her, I want instead to accept it.
If my part of this exercise is wiping away some coffee granules to save her two minutes of precious brain time, then I am happy to get that sponge with a smile. I know she’s grateful because she greets me in the kitchen, when I wake hours after her, to ask for a morning kiss. To check how I slept. To thank me for always being so tidy.
We each have our departments after all. One of mine seems to be resident surface wiper. That suits me fine. (She covers, amongst other things, hoovering, flight booking and motivational speaking when I’m in a grump.)
Considering my boundaries
‘You won’t change what you tolerate’ is however a double edged sword.
Does whatever is required to change the situation outweigh the irritation of tolerating it? If not, then I must find my peace with it. Otherwise I will be stuck in the loop tape of wishing things were different but not willing to do anything about it.
There’s a weighing up of ‘what’s it worth?’
An acknowledgment of what exactly it is that I’m tolerating. The full picture (in other words, not just the irritating coffee granules but the story behind them).
There are of course examples in my life where enough is enough.
If there’s something that feels grossly misaligned with my values or well-being, but I continue to tolerate it without action, change is unlikely to happen. For instance, realising the strict hierarchical attitude of certain senior members of my old firm wasn’t aligned with how I wanted to be treated (or how I believed anyone should be treated). A job title doesn’t indicate worth and shouldn’t permit someone speaking rudely to another more junior member. (Ultimately leading me towards leaving that particular corporate world, for this reason and others.)
I asked myself where are my boundaries? Has one been crossed to an extent I’ve lost sight of it? This is then about understanding my limits, communicating them, and taking action to ensure that my life reflects my needs.
Is my irritation a call to action against complacency in a situation that is reducing my quality of life, to below standards I’m ok with?
Then there are times in life that, despite our best efforts, we aren’t able to alter the course of things. They might not be in our power to change. If I find myself in this situation where change is not feasible, how might I find peace with it? This doesn’t mean giving up. It’s about shifting my perspective to reduce the level of my suffering and find contentment in the present moment.
To fondle the granules beneath my toes and picture my girlfriend’s grin as she sips her hot coffee and her busy healthy brain beavering away.
“Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.”
Actively changing what doesn’t serve me, while finding peace with what I cannot change.
I am a Somatic Coach and through my writing attempt to capture the human experience, through our minds and bodies. If you’re interested in what Somatic Coaching is or would like to try it, find out more about it here.
Thanking my Write of Passage alumni Harrison Moore, Kevin Brennan, Rebecca Isjwara and Mohammad Khan for their feedback.