Why everyday moments trigger us in ways that make no sense

I started reading A Year with Anthony DeMello: Waking Up Week by Week, and already I’m realizing what a mess I am.

In the second week, he asks us to pay attention to the subtle ways we make our happiness depend on things outside ourselves.

And while I understand this concept very well, I apparently fail to implement it in the most ridiculous areas of my life.

For example: the dishes in the sink.

I was literally reading the line:“Catch the subtle ways in which you make your happiness depend on people, possessions, circumstances, and outcomes,” when my son walked over, dumped his dirty dishes into the sink, and said, “I’ll get to it later.”

This is the moment where my inner peace packs its bags and heads for the door.

I didn’t yell (small victory), but I did give the classic stink eye and a short speech. And yes, I felt that pang of irritation rising immediately.

And then, because apparently I love embarrassing myself, I told him I couldn’t start my workout until he washed the dishes.

He didn’t even need to say the words out loud — I could hear it in the air:
“That’s a ‘you’ problem.”

And honestly, it is.

I could sit here and justify to you, dear reader, that I have every right to be upset. And he should totally help me out with the dishes and not leave them in the sink to stink up the house, and just create clutter in my eyes.

We can validate the reasons why certain people, certain possessions, having them or not having them, certain circumstances such as this one, or certain outcomes like attaining something or not attaining something could indeed have a direct impact on our happiness.

But does it really?

I always have a whole story running in the background. It’s never just dishes. It instantly becomes:

“He’s being disrespectful.”
“He doesn’t care.”
“I’m being taken for granted.”

But none of that is actually happening.
It’s just me assigning meaning to a circumstance.

And what’s funny is that this shows up in other places too — like with a client I’ve worked with for eight years.

I’ve already set clear boundaries.

He knows what I do and what I don’t do, and he respects it, most of the time.

But even when he doesn’t ask, I still feel that little spike of anxiety in my chest — like I’m already bracing myself for a request that may or may not come.

But my body still reacts the old way.

That old habit of wanting to please, wanting to avoid disappointing anyone, wanting to be extra helpful — it kicks in immediately, even when nothing’s wrong, and no one is upset.

It’s not the situation that stresses me; it’s the meaning I give it.

And that’s what DeMello is talking about.
These little habitual reactions — these patterns — are what make us miserable, not the things themselves.

Because the truth is…

Not everyone is going to like me.
Not everyone will be satisfied.
Not everyone will be happy with what I offer.

And none of that is life-threatening.

Dishes in the sink won’t kill me.
My son is not sending me a coded message of disrespect.
My client is just asking a question — not demanding my soul.

And when my mind tells me,
You’re being disrespected right now,
I can simply respond with:
“That’s not my experience.”

I can step outside the program and notice what’s going on.

I can watch the thought float by and remind myself, “Okay, that’s just a thought. I don’t have to buy into it.”

Because the moment I question the meaning I’m assigning, the whole emotional reaction starts to dissolve.

It’s not the dishes.
It’s not the client.
It’s not the circumstance.

It’s the habit of handing over my peace to things that aren’t even real — just stories my mind creates on autopilot.
And I realize suffering isn’t in the situation — it’s in the story.

Thank you for being here🖤

If you’d like to explore this idea further, I developed it into a short series called clarity without force, created for moments when uncertainty is present, and clarity is less accessible. A free guided audio is linked here.

You’re welcome to follow along here on Medium — where the work is unfolding in real time.

I’ve also started sharing occasional notes by email as part of my own process. If you’d like to be part of that, I send thoughtful writing, ideas I’m sitting with, resources I return to, and the occasional practice. Sent once a month or less. You can subscribe here.