People are like thermos mugs. They can burn you. If you let them.

There it sits before me. An innocent thermos mug.

Which I hate.

And which I can’t throw out. 

I hate it, because every time I use it, I land up burning myself when I sip my tea from it. Because it keeps things so damn hot. And then I don’t enjoy drinking my tea. 

And the whole damn point of my tea ritual (my English ancestors and mother would be so proud of me) is that I get to really savor and enjoy drinking lovely hot tea throughout the morning without endless runs to the kettle. 

(And wow, I really am throwing those damns around here aren’t I? Can you tell I get just a leeetle wound up over my tea?? )

OK, back to the thermos mug in hand. 

And that’s also why I can’t throw it out. Because it really is the best thermos mug that we have - rating it on the scale of how long it will keep things hot. And, you know - landfill. Argh. Or I could just give it away to the Salvation Army or something. But….it’s a really good thermos mug. 

So I hate it. And it sits there. And I stare at it malevolently - not using it nearly enough as I should. 

And...there’s more. 

There’s always more, isn’t there? 

This thermos mug - the best one we have - also happens to be the sole physical object I still have from that awful toxic workplace that so completely crushed me that I fell apart completely and didn’t move off the couch for two months. 

So every time I look at it, it’s a little reminder of that. 

So I hate it. Of course. 

But I still can’t get rid of it. 

I mean it’s just an effing thermos mug. It’s not like it’s done anything to me. 

Except burn me every time I use it for my tea. 

So yesterday I decided, enough already. This is ridiculous. Either get rid of the damn thing or keep it and use it gladly. 

I pulled it off the shelf and we had a little talk. 

OK, I did the talking. It just sat there. Yup - it’s as crazy as it sounds. 

“OK thermos,” I said. “Let’s figure this out. You just want to be you. You just want to do your job and keep things hot. And I keep putting too much boiling water in you, and not leaving enough space for milk, and then when I sip, you burn my tongue. Which is so not cool. So here’s what we’re going to do: we are GOING TO FIGURE THIS DAMN THING OUT OR YOU”RE OUT! I’m only going to fill you up to here with boiling water this time. Then add the milk, and lets see if that’s the right temperature.” 

Thermos just sat there - duh - but grateful that I was at last getting this through my thick head. 

I poured in less water than I usually do. Added my milk. And sipped. 

Better. But still a little too hot. 

Poor a little off. Add a little more milk. 

Sip.

Aaaaaah, just right. 

I screwed-on the lid, and had 3 hours of hot tea. It was divine. 

And yes, now I am going to get all profound on you. Bear with me. 

Because that thermos mug, just like that toxic work environment, was just being who it was. I was the one who kept on burning myself - expecting, wanting, hoping it would change. The thermos mug wasn’t trying to burn me. It was just doing it’s thing. That awful boss, that passive-aggressive teflon-coated brick, that two-faced little witch, that lily-livered doormat of a manager - they were all just human beings, coping the best way they knew how. Doing the best they could with what they had. They were just doing their thing. 

I was the one who kept wanting them to be something they weren’t - and couldn’t be. And so they burned me. Burned me to such a crisp that all that remained was the jewel inside of me. The jewel that had been there all along, but had needed the heat of their toxicity to burn away all the crud I had accumulated around myself in a life-time of proving, perfecting, pleasing, striving, justifying, defending, avoiding, ignoring. 

So who in your life, or at work, is that thermos mug. The one that keeps on burning you. That you keep on getting so frustrated with, so hurt by, but which you just can’t seem to put down or walk away from. 

What would happen if you just accepted him or her for exactly who they are. Stopped trying to change them. Stopped trying to please. Stopped seeking approval from. Stopped twisting yourself in knots to try and satisfy. Because you can never satisfy what they want from you. They want a personality transplant from you. And that’s not just impossible - you’ll die (figuratively or literally) in the attempt if you do try. 

It doesn’t mean either of you is wrong. Or that either of you is right. It just means that you either need to truly accept them for they are, and truly be OK with that. Or you need to leave them be. To stopping putting yourself into the heat of their toxicity and get yourself to a better, safer place. 

So yes, I’m keeping the thermos mug. Because while it still reminds me of that pain - it also reminds me of all the ways I’ve learned and grown since then. It doesn’t have to burn me anymore. 

And those people? They are, of course, long gone from my life. And I’m all the better for it. 

People can burn hot - with their fear, their anger, their hurt, their rage, their meanness, their negativity, their criticism, their unreasonableness. But they can only truly burn you if sip of their toxicity. If you take it inside you. 

So stop drinking from them. 

Struggling to know how? Drop me a line and let’s talk. 

In the meantime: here’s to the perfect cup of hot tea (or coffee, or whatever!) 

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