The other day, I had made two salads and rested them on the counter. One for me and one for my husband. Clearing out the refrigerator, I noticed I had about four very small mozzarella balls that didn’t make it to my pizza earlier in the week. It was time to eat them up, or they would be compost - and I’m really working on not wasting food. So I cut them up and put them in our salads. Four pieces for him and four for me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my husband walking toward the counter. This is unusual because he really doesn’t step foot in our kitchen unless he is pouring himself a bowl of cereal. He spends more time at the gym working than I do, so the division of labor means that I am in the kitchen at home. Plus, he can’t cook. At all.
So I’m a bit suspicious as he ventures towards the salads. Specifically, I have mine a certain way, and I make his a certain way. He doesn’t know this so when he leans into taking one of the pieces of mozzarella out of my salad bowl, I could feel the stinginess come over me. It starts in my shoulders or the back of my neck. and it’s like someone is grading their fingernails on the chalkboard - I CANNOT STAND SHARING MY FOOD!
I have always been this way. When I was a little girl, someone reached over to my plate and took some French fries off of it. I lost my marbles on him, and then, if I recall correctly, got teased about it so hard that I ended up crying (my sister reminds me of this scenario and remembers it better than I do). Little “t” trauma for sure ( the teasing, not the French fry theft) but also, those early patterns were showing up. My completely unconscious little self had no idea why I took such offense.
But now I do.
So as he is about to take it, I announce, “That isn’t your salad.” He kindly lets me know he was doing me a favor since he was actually reaching for the cherry tomatoes that I force myself to eat, out of my salad. And then, I started cracking up. I mean, I couldn’t help but just laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. Really? I couldn’t share one piece of mozzarella?
Old habits die hard.
So it got me thinking (of course, it did), how many times in a day are we showing up in a defensive way without giving it any thought?
Here are a few ways the shadows of our dominant patterns show up in real life. You will see yourself somewhere in here. If you don’t, well….. that might be because you aren’t paying much attention. Maybe you didn’t want to hear that.
For some people, the shadow shows up as intensity.
Maybe you walk into a room and immediately take charge. You correct someone mid-sentence because you see the problem clearly. You think you’re being helpful or efficient, but others feel steamrolled. Later, you wonder why people seem guarded around you.
For some, the shadow looks like disappearing.
You go along with the plan even though you don’t want to. You say “it’s fine” when it isn’t. You avoid naming your preference because it feels easier to keep the peace. Then resentment quietly builds and you don’t quite know why.
For others, the shadow shows up as judgment.
You notice what’s wrong before what’s right. You mentally correct grammar, parenting choices, driving, or how someone loads the dishwasher. You hold yourself to impossible standards and feel irritated when others don’t do the same.
For some, the shadow is over-giving.
You say yes when you’re exhausted. You anticipate needs before they’re spoken. You feel unappreciated but don’t say anything because being needed feels safer than being honest. Eventually, you feel depleted and quietly hurt.
For others, the shadow looks like performing.
You shape yourself to the moment. You read the room and become who you think you should be. You stay busy, productive, impressive. And when things slow down, you feel oddly empty or anxious, like you don’t know who you are without the doing.
For some, the shadow shows up as longing.
You compare. You feel like something essential is missing. You replay conversations, moments, relationships, wishing they were deeper or more meaningful. You feel things intensely and assume others don’t quite get it.
For some of us, the shadow looks like hoarding.
Time. Energy. Space. Food. You guard your resources closely. You pull back before anyone can take too much. Sharing feels intrusive, even threatening. And only later do you realize how tight your body got in the moment. (Or someone tries to take some of your salad and you almost lose it!)
For others, the shadow shows up as anxiety.
You scan for what could go wrong. You ask questions to feel safe, but they come out sounding like doubt. You want reassurance, but you don’t quite trust it when you get it. Your nervous system stays on high alert.
And for some, the shadow is excess.
You keep things light. You move on quickly. You plan the next fun thing before fully landing in the present one. Discomfort feels unbearable, so you outrun it. Later, you wonder why things don’t feel as satisfying as you hoped.
Did you see yourself? Did you see someone else? That’s a good thing. This seeing, this awareness, leads to greater compassion (I know, I keep talking about that!). We are all suffering. These shadows are real and they keep us stuck. Seeing them is freeing them.
I hope the next time you witness yourself, you can smile and say, “I see you.” You can then make another choice, because with Presence, anything is possible.
Of course I had to laugh remembering how mad you were at Bobby. 🤣