I noticed, during the nearly eight hours my husband and I were stuck on the side of I-5 after the wheel came off our little trailer on the second day of our travels, a thought that shows up for me now and then. It’s this: “I’ve already met my quota.”
A quota is “a proportional part or share” (merriam-webster.com). If a Girl Scout troupe sells the number of cookies expected of the group, it has met its quota. If school parents have put in the expected number of volunteer hours, they have met their quota.
When I have a lot of troubles in my life, or even a lot of annoyances, I notice the thought that I’ve already had my fair share of them. In fact, I find myself thinking, I’ve already had more than my fair share! I’ve noticed that if I let myself get hooked by this thought, I get cranky.
What’s a Fair Share of Trouble?
We had already had to do several fixes to the trailer in the days before our trip (it’s pretty old). Some parts didn’t arrive on time, and we had had to patch together some old parts at the last minute in order to have a working gray water tank. Since our trip was partly to get us to where my husband would be facilitating workshops for high school teachers, leaving later was not an option. Now we were wondering whether we’d have to leave our very banged up and disabled trailer on the side of the highway in order to make it to the next day’s workshop. And a highway patrol officer had already informed us that leaving it was illegal.
I don’t know where I got the idea that there’s a certain allotment of trouble that’s fair. I do know the first time I really noticed the power of that thought. I was mopping up some milk spilled on the kitchen floor. There was that “quota” thought, and then another thought—a startling thought: What if there is no quota? What if there’s no limit to the amount of trouble a day can hold, or a person has to face?
As I write this, the idea of there being no quota, no limit, sounds hard. I want there to be a limit! But the way I experienced the “no quota” thought when I was mopping the floor was actually liberating. Like, if there’s no limit, I can stop keeping track. I can just be in this moment dealing with the milk on the floor. I don’t have to feel indignant or put out.
Expectations Shape Our Perceptions
My quota story is one example of how our expectations shape how we perceive and respond to what happens in our lives. What expectations—thoughts about how the way things should be—show up for you? How do your expectations impact you?
One of the focus areas of Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) is developing a more workable relationship with our thoughts. When my quota thought comes up, I can notice it’s there and decide that it’s not that helpful to me. “Thanks, brain! That’s an old story. Moving on now!” If I can unhook from my quota story—that is, just notice it as one of the many thoughts my mind comes up with—it’s easier to be patient and calm, even if I’m still anxious or disappointed.
Major Troubles
I want to acknowledge that spilled milk, and even wheels falling off, are minor troubles. I have found, though, that “there’s no quota” is also helpful when it comes to major troubles. Unwelcome diagnoses. Heartbreaking losses. I won’t list personal ones here. I acknowledge that an accumulation of major troubles is very, very hard, and I acknowledge that my load is fairly small compared to that of many others. Oh, how I wish there were limits for us all! But perhaps the acceptance that there are not, that this trouble–whatever it is–is here now, can free us to tend to what needs tending to without wasting our energy on fury.
A Helpful Thought
After many hours of unsuccessfully trying to find a tow, we finally found someone who could replace our wheel (and brake, etc.) roadside, and we were on our way again. And “there’s no quota” became our motto for the rest of our trip. It helped three days later when one of our water lines sprung a leak and we had a little flood inside the trailer. And it helped when the door latch stopped functioning and we had to rig up some bungee cords to keep the door shut when traveling. Our little trailer looked rather travel-weary, but we had a great trip!