15 May When the Heat Rises
The first real heat wave hit Phoenix last week. Triple digits. I’d parked in full sun without thinking, and when I opened the car door after an appointment, the heat hit like a wall. The steering wheel felt hot enough to brand my hands. I cranked the A/C and sat there waiting. Wishing the car would cool down faster.
It wasn’t just the car. The whole day felt like it was running a few degrees too high.
It had started with a calendar mishap that caused me to miss a call I meant to be on. My email wasn’t cooperating, and an attachment I needed from a colleague wouldn’t come through. Someone who’s usually warm and friendly sent a clipped reply in response to a question I’d asked, and without thinking, I started drafting one to match. Then the dryer at home began making a horrible grinding noise, adding one more layer of friction. By the time I picked up the girls from school, I was in a bad mood.
The girls looked upset, too. I had misunderstood the plan for the pickup time after a makeup test, so Ella was storming into the car, slamming the door behind her. “Where have you been?” she snapped.
Immediately, I felt the heat rise in me. I went straight into defense mode, ready to explain instead of listen. And it hit me: this was the fourth or fifth time that day I’d matched the temperature of someone else’s stress.
None of it was earth-shattering. But I could feel my internal temperature climbing with every little flare. Like a thermometer, I was reflecting whatever was around me.
Thermometers are passive—they take in the environment and simply mirror it back. When the dryer was making noise, I absorbed that frustration and carried it into the next task. When the email attachment wouldn’t come through, I let the irritation settle in. When Ella was upset, I took on her tension and let it grow.
But what if I decided to be more like a thermostat than a thermometer? A thermostat doesn’t absorb what’s happening. It is steadfast and intentional, regulating the temperature, setting a desired level and working to stay there, even when the space around it is shifting.
I’m trying to be more like that. To notice the small moments when I’m about to reflect the energy around me and take a breath instead. I don’t always succeed. Some days, I still get swept up and react to what’s happening around me. But when I can pause before I mirror someone else’s stress, when I can breathe before urgency takes the lead, I feel steadier. More like myself.
So next time the dryer’s whining, the email’s stuck, the girls are unhappy, or the car isn’t cooling fast enough in the summer heat, I hope I remember that I don’t have to let the heat of the day run things.
I can set my own temperature, even when it feels like the world is cranking up the dial.