How Our Reactions Sabotage Us
We’ve all done it. I’ve done it, you’ve done it—we’ve all, at some point, made hasty, emotional decisions that ultimately do more harm than good. We lash out, shut down, or retreat into our own corners, licking our wounds instead of confronting our pain with clarity and courage. We struggle to communicate. Worse yet, we fail to communicate in love.
Instead of seeking understanding, we shut each other down. Instead of facing our emotions with maturity, we weaponize them. The shame, the hurt, the unspoken wounds we carry—they drive us into patterns of avoidance, self-sabotage, and denial. We convince ourselves that we deserve more, but when resources seem scarce, when opportunities feel just out of reach, we justify our stagnation. We make excuses for ourselves, over and over again.
Time, however, is unmoved by our emotions. It does not wait for our grief, our tantrums, or our personal reckonings. Time governs everything. It is intertwined with mortality, dictating the urgency of our decisions. It commands our priorities, and yet, too often, our life’s purpose is at odds with the clock.
But if there is one force greater than time itself, it is communication—because communication, when grounded in love, is what has the power to heal, to mend, to solve. It is the bridge between frustration and resolution.
The Airport Meltdown: A Lesson in Self-Sabotage
I recently watched a video of a woman completely unraveling in an airport. She had missed her flight, and instead of finding a way to course-correct, she chose to explode. Her emotions hijacked her reasoning, and she directed all her anger at the airline staff. But here’s the reality: It wasn’t even the airline that closed the door to the plane—it was an FAA representative. That means no amount of yelling, crying, or pleading would change the situation.
And yet, we see these meltdowns constantly. Airports, customer service desks, restaurants, social media—people spiral when they don’t get their way. Instead of adjusting, they unravel. Instead of problem-solving, they scream, cry, and disrupt the peace.
But that paranoia, that sense of entitlement to an outcome we failed to secure, doesn’t just manifest in airports. It follows us everywhere.
When we don’t get our way, we spiral. We retreat into victimhood. We blame everyone but ourselves.
A Personal Encounter with Miscommunication
Recently, I experienced a situation that underscored just how much communication—or the lack thereof—can impact a situation.
We had a mix-up with our bookings. One guest arrived expecting to check in, only to find that another guest was already occupying the space they had hoped to stay in. The frustration was immediate and mutual—one guest felt displaced, while the other felt intruded upon. Both felt entitled to a resolution, and both allowed their emotions to dictate their responses.
The result? Chaos. Anger. Frustration. And at the heart of it all—miscommunication.
And here’s the truth: It wasn’t just their fault. It was our fault too. We had failed to clearly communicate expectations, to manage scheduling effectively, and to create an environment where solutions could be found without panic. We, too, had let the situation spiral instead of guiding it toward resolution with patience and clarity.
Choosing a Different Path
This experience taught me a lesson I won’t forget. In moments of crisis—whether at an airport, in a business transaction, or in our personal lives—the knee-jerk reaction is rarely the right one. What is needed is patience. Understanding. Compassion. Integrity.
I am choosing to exist in a space of clarity, where communication is no longer a battleground but a bridge. A space where frustration doesn’t have the final say. A space where solutions take precedence over emotional outbursts.
If we could all embrace that—if we could learn to communicate not just with our words but with love, patience, and responsibility—how many conflicts could we prevent? How much unnecessary suffering could we avoid?
Time waits for no one. But neither does opportunity. And every moment wasted in frustration is a moment that could have been used to build something better.
We can do better. We must do better. It starts with communication.
