Your Last Shred of Patience

You're having a good day. Scratch that—you're having a great day. The sun is out, the air warm, everything is jiving. You’re a warrior. A gladiator. A full-blown all-star. You’re whistling every note of the Andy Griffith theme song you’ve been practicing for months. You’re cruising.

And then—it happens. That thing.

You know the one. The thing that triggers an emotional response that instantly hijacks your body and mind, sending you straight into pure, unfiltered reaction mode.

The door gets left open, and the cats escape.

A tiny nail takes down your tire and your whole morning with it.

Your phone rings and that name flashes on the screen.

A medical bill lands in your mailbox.

Your daughter throws the perfectly calibrated kind of backtalk that snaps your last fiber of patience.

And you lose it.

You’re no longer cruising like a full-blown all-star. You're in full-blown survival mode.

As if you’re not yourself anymore, you lash out. You’re sharp and reactive. Or maybe it’s the opposite—you’re quiet, agreeable, overly accommodating, and contradicting everything you're feeling. Or do you just freeze, go numb, and wait it out, hoping the storm will pass without too much damage.

This response might feel disorienting. And for those witnessing it, the reaction might seem outsized, confusing, maybe even irrational. But to you, it made sense.

And when the dust settles, you're left wondering, What just happened? Why did that one moment send my whole system into fight, flight, freeze, or fawn? And, for the life of me, why can I no longer whistle that darn Andy Griffith theme song.

As the moment passes and you’ve calmed and recentered, it’s time to be curious.

Often underneath these seemingly disproportionate reactions is a story. A narrative you’ve internalized. And when that story is challenged—especially in a way that feels threatening or unsafe—it hits a nerve. Hard.

The story is usually connected to a longing that has been stepped on—one that is deep and meaningful that your body is trying to protect. The longing is good. It's human. It’s worthy of being acknowledged. But sometimes, the way we react to protect it can be short-sighted and self-sabotaging.

Maybe the story is that you grew up in a single-parent household and money was tight. The longing you have is financial security. The longing could have been violated when your spouse over spent on the budget, or you had to write that check for the car repair, or that unexpected medical bill showed up. Before you could blink, your body time-warped back to that time where you lived the story, felt the fear of financial insecurity, and the longing to never feel that way again was created.

Be curious and explore: What longing may have been stepped on? What invisible rule was broken? What fear came rushing to the surface? Acknowledge what you begin to understand from this exploration. Honor it.

Maybe new options will surface about how you might be able to respond when you feel the longing is violated. As you dig deeply into your story with gentle curiosity, you might experience some freedom.

If you find yourself feeling stuck or without clarity, don’t hesitate to invite someone into the process. We’re here to help and would be honored to walk alongside you. Our therapists are great whistlers.