Conscious Communication In Action
The Triggered Text I’m Glad I Didn’t Send
Clean communication is boring. At least to the part of us that loves drama.
It’s not emotionally engaging, so you’ll never see it in movies or on TV.
So what does mature communication look like from someone who’s in a trigger? And where can one go to hear it?
Since 2019, I’ve joined a variety of platforms and communities that offer an opportunity to practice communication skills in real time. However, I’ll admit, outside of those containers, it’s hard to find real-life examples of what good communication looks like.
The other day, I got the chance to put my communication skills to practice.
It was not easy. First, I got triggered and almost sent a text I would have regretted. After several drafts and some outside help, I finally wrote something I felt proud to send.
So this is the story of one boring, undramatic, text message that I sent… and the steps that got me there.
I learned a lot from this experience, and I hope by sharing my story, you’ll learn something, too.
What I Wanted to Say to My Masseuse
I discovered a new masseuse recently. Her massages are well above average. She comes over to my house and charges $9 for an hour. Helluva deal, right?
After spending Saturday night on the pickleball court, I wanted to spend my Sunday resting. So I texted ‘Kim’ (fake name just in case she learns English and discovers my Substack some day) and asked if she was available the next morning at ten AM. She agreed. Great.
I woke up on Sunday feeling slightly sore, somewhat spacious, and ready for a restful day. Eager to stay offline, I didn’t check my phone all morning.
When 10 AM rolled around, Kim was nowhere to be found.
This upset me. Not only did I have to check my phone, but it jeopardized my massage.
I turned my phone off airplane mode and my eyes rolled at her text. She said she had gone to an event and she wouldn’t be back in time. She asked if the evening worked instead.
I grew livid. This is not the first time this has happened.
In that moment, I wanted two things:
A masseuse to come over as soon as possible and
To dump every drop of my frustration on Kim
I started with the former. I texted another masseuse (let’s call her Linh) who happened to be available. She said she could be at my house in forty-five minutes. Great (gotta love Vietnam, hey?).
But I didn’t feel great. Knots clenched my stomach, and fire filled my chest.
Kim didn’t say, “Sorry, my son is sick and I have to take him to the hospital." Her message stated that she was at some business grand opening and she wouldn’t be home in time. What the f*ck, Kim?
Level 1 Communication: The Reactive Dump
By now, I feel distrust, anger, and an urgency to say something to her. My immediate impulse is to call her out on her shit.
“You are unreliable. I don’t like it. If this happens again I’ll never call you again.”
I spend the next ten minutes trying to find the best Vietnamese translation for reliable. Not easy. When I ask June (my Vietnamese wife) for help, she nudges me to be more compassionate in my response.
June’s wisdom prevails. Calling her unreliable is a bit much (even though I have plenty of evidence!).
The thing is, right now I’m reacting from the past. A young part of me is fussy. Some part of me feels incomplete.
It needs to voice this frustration. But the frustration isn’t about Kim. It’s probably meant for one of my parents.
I take a few deep breaths and remember what I learned from non-violent communication (a format/tool used for difficult conversations): state the facts and share how I feel.
Level 2 Communication: The Spiritual Splurge
I write the next draft:
“You said you were available and then you cancelled. This happened a few times already. I feel frustrated and angry, and I do not trust you.”
Ok…this is a little better. Now, I’m pointing out some objective facts. But the last line is where it gets murky.
A lot of new-age modalities encourage you to share your emotions more. Talk about your feelings! Be vulnerable! Speak your truth!
While I’m not opposed to that, it still requires some emotional discernment. That type of emotional outpour may be suitable for partners, housemates, or long-term relationships. But for a masseuse, I’ve only met twice? I don’t know…
Thankfully, this is all in Vietnamese, and I need to run it by June to make sure I’m not sounding like an idiot. She corrects my grammar and then points out that this still isn’t a very appropriate message to send to a masseuse. She’s right (Occasionally, it happens!).
This version has more of my mature adult on board, but it’s still heavily influenced by my emotions. A part of me NEEDS her to know how I feel. So, I pause to investigate.
While I can reveal how her actions impacted me, it’s really none of her business and not her responsibility. I don’t see how it would help the situation at all.
I mean, what am I expecting from her in response? To say “Sorry, I swear it’ll never happen again! The sole purpose of my existence is to give you massages once a month and if I lost you as a customer, I don’t know how I could live with myself!”
Plus, my response has no clear request or new way forward, it’s just a less intense, more ‘spiritually mature’ version of the first draft. And, calling out the fact that she’s broken my trust? I’m not sure that’s a good idea, either.
Back to the drawing board…
Level 3 Communication: The Adult-ing Response
By now, June’s basically writing the text for me. This is good, not just because she can help with Vietnamese, but because she brings objectivity.
We struggle to find an appropriate way to say that I appreciate her massages. The Vietnamese words for “like” and “want” in this situation could easily be misinterpreted.
Finally, we settle on a message that feels good, clean, and direct.
“You give good massages, which is why I booked you. When you cancel like this, it is inconvenient for me. Next time, if you’re not sure, please say so and I’ll call someone else.”
Clean. Mature. Honest. No blame. No drama. It feels good.
Above all, I share what I would like moving forward. In doing so, I’m essentially giving her a second chance. I’m honoring the fact that I actually like her massages, so creating a possible future where there’s no tension between us serves me, too.
But, admit it… isn’t it a bit boring?
It would have made such a better story if I had told her she lost my trust or given her an ultimatum. Heck, maybe I could have made her cry. Maybe she would have refused to come back, and I could have played the victim. I guess we’ll never know.
Ultimately, the drama didn’t survive. Instead, my dignity did. And that’s a tradeoff I’ll take every time.
The Bottom Line
Sometimes you need to write three drafts (or more!) to communicate like a mature adult. Like any art form, it takes practice, but a messy first draft can turn into a polished final one that you’re proud of.
After I sent the message, Linh (the reliable masseuse who I trust) arrived five minutes later. I could say she saved the day, but she didn’t. By slowing down, meeting my parts, and asking for help, I didn’t to be saved.
Linh’s 90-minute massage felt great. But I didn’t let my emotions get the best of me, which felt even better.