THAILAND 2: Firing the Auditor

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue.  Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them.  And the point is, to live everything.  Live the questions now.  Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it, and live along some distant day into the answer.”  – Rainer Maria Rilke

Our minds were made up: I wouldn’t be going to school.  What I was going to do all day was beyond me.  I decided not to attend school the next morning, which was fine by me, because the gentle throb in my head had grown into the fierce drum beat of fire dancers.  It must be from all the stress, I justified the pain to myself while inhaling long deep breathes and visualizing releasing the stress along with the air.  One of our classmates had already dropped out, and had decided to return home.  I few of the others already had their tickets home after their term was up, but Justin and I were financially committed and at the point of no return.  It didn’t matter how long we had to live in Thailand to save up enough money to fly back home, we were here to stay.

Justin returned from class that day with more bad news, “Whitney [our teacher] told me that if you weren’t going to come to class that you have to pay $900 to stay with me at the hotel.”

“$900!” I exclaimed in disbelief.

“She said you might as well just come to class, and get your certificate if you’re going to pay that amount.  She also said it will be easier for you to get a job tutoring or at a language center if you have this certificate.  Besides, I don’t want to go to school without you. ” Justin explained to me.

“They’re just trying to scare me into paying the money.” I said haughtily while closing my eyes and putting my hand to my throbbing head, desperately trying to concentrate.

“Probably, but I don’t see what other option we have at this point.” Justin shook his head and looked down at the floor as though wishing the answer would manifest in front of him.

“I can’t take this headache anymore! I can’t think with all its pounding!” I stood up angrily, marched towards the door, swung it open with the exceptional dramatics of Vivien Leigh and stalked out into the bright light of the sun.

In the past, I have been accused of running away from my problems, because I seem to still have the temper of a two year old.  My anger rises quickly and without warning, my head fills with every single possibility, the full weight of the reality immediately rushes in to overwhelm my thinking, and the walls close in.  I get very quiet and I refuse to speak.  A very smart rabbit once taught me long ago, ‘If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all!’ So, I don’t.

My mom tells me I’ve been trying to run away from home since I was two, at 10 - when I feuded with my parents - I ran into the pasture to be with my horse or climb a tree, at 17 I walked out of school and all the way home when I found out they gave the title of Valedictorian to someone else, at 21 I walked away from an abusive life - never to look back, and at 27 I ran away into the world to find myself.

My silence is not Justin’s favorite emotion-coping mechanism, but he seems to understand that getting fresh air, leaving the static-filled emotion of the room behind, and walking off the frustration is the only way I know.  You think I would have found a better way by now, but when I walk away I can think clearly.  I can navigate through what is real and what has been built up because of the emotions involved . . . Maybe they were right to say I always run away from my problems, but sometimes you need to step back to look at the big picture, get a little perspective, and sort out your thoughts so you can conquer them one-by-one.

I was gone for hours, or for what felt like days.  I knew Justin would be out looking for me, but I had chosen a spot he wouldn’t think to look – I needed silence, and I couldn’t risk him interrupting my thoughts as volatile as they were.  I was too angry, and I knew I would direct it at him.  But now, it was beginning to grow dark I knew Justin would start to worry.  I returned to the hotel room somber, and reflective, only to find the room deserted.  I lay down on the bed to ease the pounding in my head, and had just started to drift off when I heard the beep of the hotel room door.

Justin walked in and immediately, I knew the expression on his face: the same one a parent experiences when their child disappears while out shopping only to be discovered a few frantic minutes later.  The child not realizing the panic the parent feels sits perfectly safe peeking through the clothes rack and giggling; upon discovery the parent feels relieved and then tries to hold back the rush of anger.

“I looked everywhere for you.” Justin tried to maintain his tone, “I don’t like when you run off,” he paused to control his breath. “I can’t help you work through the problems if you’re always disappearing.”  I sat up on the bed, but laid back down as it only made the pounding worse.  “I think you should finish school.  That’s what you came here to do.”

“I came here to teach.” I spit out bitterly through clenched teeth.

“But you can’t, so you might as well get the certificate, and we’ll try to get you a job at a hospital or tutoring.” Justin released his pent up air through his nose, and let his chest relax as though a large burden had just been lifted from it.

“You sit there like none of this bothers you.  Like everything is okay, and there aren’t any difficult decisions to make.  How do you not see this situation for what it is - a stressful, negative situation?” I asked in earnest wanting desperately to know his secret.  “There are so many frustrating things happening all at the same time, and you want to go play on the beach! I don’t understand. . .” I sat silent for a moment, not really expecting an answer.  “It’s as though there is this grumpy little man sitting at the desk of my mind auditing every thought I have.  He sits there muttering and every time a thought comes through he pulls out a huge stamp labeled ‘NEGATIVE’ and slams it down on the thought regardless of what it is, and then sends it into my mind. . .”

“I think you need a new auditor,” Justin said with a slight smile.

“Well, I’m firing this guy, and putting up ‘Help Wanted’ signs, ‘cause I can’t stand this anymore.” I said frustrated, but slightly amused by the thought of firing the curmudgeon in my head.  Perhaps it’s even that same old, curmudgeon scratching out the unspoken laws of expectation.  I would love to have the pleasure of releasing that man from his duties.

That evening we made the payment online, and the next morning we both went to class.  I didn’t feel any better about the decision, either way I felt that we were between a rock and hard place, but at least I was with Justin and a part of the class.

That day at lunch some of our classmates were talking about how delicious the Thai cuisine was, but how unfortunate it was that they insisted on putting MSG in everything.   Instantly a light bulb burst inside my mind, “They put MSG in EVERYTHING?” I confirmed drawing the words out like I was speaking to someone who was hard of hearing.

“Yes.” They responded matter-of-factly and continued on with their conversation as though I had never spoken.  I sat back bewildered.  No wonder I have felt so crummy and have had such bad headaches.  My headache even now was on the verge of turning into a migraine.

I wrapped my arm around Justin’s as we walked away from the restaurant, and pulled him in close as though I was going to reveal a secret or a diabolical plan to conquer the world,  “Did you hear what they said about how they put MSG in everything?”

“Yeah,” Justin said passively.

I expected an earth shattering realization to strike him to.  I dropped my head towards him and raised my eyebrows in anticipation, my eyes widening and my head swayed back and forth as though to suggest there was more behind it . . . but nothing came.

“There are two things that I am extremely allergic to: Sulfa and MSG! No wonder I have felt sick every time I ate, and have been on the verge of a migraine all week.  I knew it had to be more than just the stress.  At home Asian restaurants are constantly advertising how they don’t have MSG in their food.  I didn’t realize it was because they ALWAYS put MSG in their food when there in their native countries!” I rambled on exasperated.

“Oh, well . . . that’s good to know!” Justin responded while looking desirably towards the beach.

“That’s it? I am allergic to everything edible in this country, and you say that’s good? I wish I could call my mom – she would understand.” I muttered angrily at Justin’s lack of validation, and tears filling my eyes.

“Isn’t it good that we know why you feel sick, have headaches, and get grumpy easily?” Justin’s response was so logical that even though I wanted to argue for arguing sake, there was nothing I could say except . . .

“Yes.  I just feel like arguing for no reason!”  I let out a frustrated sigh, “I really do need a new auditor right away!” I admitted in defeat.

“Or . . . maybe just some food without MSG in it? We’ll figure it out.” He slid his arm around my shoulders, pulled me in and smiled down at me.  He knows I can’t resist his smile – it sparks a light inside of me that always makes every cloud part.  I knew what was coming next and that no matter what the following words were out of his mouth - I would say ‘yes’.  My ego, and the grumpy auditor, had been dethroned by logic and that smile.  The thought of my defeat made me smile for the first time in days.  “Want to go to the beach?” he grinned broadly.

“Yes,” I fought back my smile, but it was no use - one kiss on the cheek and a great big, “WOO-HOO!” from Justin and I too broke into a huge grin.

Life just can’t be that bad when you have someone that keeps all the darkness away.  The road ahead is uncertain, and the chances of it all turning out all right does look grim; if I was a gamblin’ woman I wouldn’t put my money on things working out, but I’d definitely put my money on him.