This past weekend, I was installing a ceiling fan in our bedroom.
I was almost finished. Just needed to attach the light fixture, tighten a few screws, and call it done.
Sounds simple enough.
Except I dropped one of those tiny screws.
Did I mention I was standing on an eight-foot ladder? And that our bedroom carpeting has elements of brass coloring in it? The same color as the screw?
So down the ladder I went, looking for a screw that apparently had disappeared.
I looked everywhere.
After 5-ish minutes, a few choice words, and more frustration than a tiny screw should ever cause, I finally found it.
Back up the ladder.
And wouldn't you know it?
I dropped the damn thing again.
Back down the ladder.
Another ten minutes searching the floor.
By this point, I was making quite a scene. I was cussing, getting increasingly irritated, and probably making the whole experience pretty unpleasant for Kim, who was nearby.
I could feel myself getting closer and closer to completely losing it.
Finally, I stopped and said something to Kim along the lines of, "Can you help me find this thing? Because I'm about to lose my s#!+ over a stupid little screw."
I walked away and she found it.
Now, I'd love to tell you that I immediately calmed down, laughed about the whole thing, and finished the job with a smile.
But that’s not real life.
Even after finding the screw, I was still worked up.
Because that's the thing about frustration. Once you've allowed yourself to get that wound up, it doesn't just disappear because the problem gets solved.
And that experience got me thinking.
How often do we feel ourselves getting increasingly frustrated, recognize that we're about to lose our cool, and then just go ahead and lose it anyway?
And afterward, we explain it away.
"That's just how I am."
"I've always been this way."
"That's just how I'm wired."
But is it?
Or is that simply how I've gotten used to responding?
Here's what I'm realizing.
Just because that's how I've always responded doesn't mean that's how I have to respond.
I can't necessarily control what frustrates me.
And I'm certainly not going to pretend that I'll never get angry over something ridiculous again.
But there are warning signs.
My patience gets shorter.
My language changes.
I start getting irritated with people who had absolutely nothing to do with the problem.
And somewhere along the way, I can usually recognize that I'm heading toward a reaction I'm probably going to regret.
That moment matters.
Because recognizing what's happening gives me an opportunity to choose what happens next.
Maybe I need to step away.
Maybe I need to give myself a minute.
Maybe I need to ask someone for help.
And maybe making that choice doesn't immediately make all the frustration go away.
That's okay.
The point isn't that I suddenly become calm and collected.
The point is that I recognized where I was headed and did something to interrupt it.
Was it perfect? Not even close.
Could I have caught myself earlier? Absolutely.
But that's part of the growth, too.
Learning to recognize those warning signs a little sooner. Taking responsibility for how I respond. Practicing a different choice until it becomes more familiar.
Lord knows, I'm not always going to get it right.
But I'm also not willing to accept that losing my cool is simply who I am.
Frustration is normal. How I choose to respond is something I can work on.
And sometimes, that work starts with admitting that a tiny little screw is getting the best of me.
— Coach Dave
Your NoBS Reflection
NOTICE: What are the warning signs that tell me I'm getting close to losing my cool?
OWN: Am I rationalizing my reactions instead of taking responsibility for how I respond?
BUILD: What could I choose to do differently when I recognize those warning signs?
SUSTAIN: How can I practice recognizing those moments earlier, even when I don't get it right every time?
