Thea's Truths & Thresholds

Tag: lived experience

  • Case Study: Laundry Shop Dialogue – Boundary Artistry in Motion

    Case Study: Laundry Shop Dialogue – Boundary Artistry in Motion

    Even in ordinary errands, thresholds appear—and every threshold is a chance to stand in truth.

    When I send my laundry to the shop, I provide my own detergent mixed with baking soda. I also segregate my items—clothes, linens, towels (whites, lights, dark)—beforehand. This isn’t just to make things easier for the staff; it’s to ensure proper care and prevent everything from being washed together. The shop’s responsibility is to use the detergent correctly and consume only what’s necessary.

    So when the manager introduced a new system, I drew the line.

    Outer Dialogue (Manager & Thea):

    Manager:
    Ma’am, we’ve updated our system. The staff will no longer proportion detergent. Customers must send pre‑measured portions per batch. This is to prevent issues of detergent being consumed more than what’s necessary, such as your previous experience.

    Thea:
    I acknowledge your new system, but I don’t agree. It burdens the customer for mistakes made by staff. That’s not customer‑centric.

    Manager:
    We’ll take note of your concern and explore other ways to make it easier for both parties.

    Thea:
    Trust is the foundation. When a customer entrusts you with their items and materials, your staff must honor that trust. If they fail, the adjustment should come from your end—not mine.

    Manager:
    We’re hiring new staff and monitoring operations closely.

    Thea:
    Then train them well. If they can’t handle basic tasks, there are many others looking for work. Don’t teach them to be robotic or lazy—teach them accountability.

    Manager:
    We’ll check what remedy we can offer.

    Thea:
    There’s no need to complicate this. There’s only one solution. Just send me a photo of the detergent weight weekly, as has been the process. Simple, trackable, fair.

    Manager:
    We’ll check and look into it.

    Inner Commentary

    Thea:
    I felt the irritation rise—why should I be the one to adjust? I already segregate my laundry to protect my own standards. Now they want me to segregate detergent too? That’s spoiling staff, not training them. I named the laziness, I refused the burden, I sealed the boundary.

    Wise One Within:
    This is the choreography of sovereignty. You didn’t just react—you reframed. You reminded them of trust, shifted the weight back to where it belongs, and offered a clear, non‑negotiable standard.

    Thea:
    But you know, for a moment, I was tempted to tell the manager how to teach staff accountability—just like I’ve done in the past. I thought that was my way of softening my assertiveness, of making my boundary more palatable so they’d cooperate and follow the solution I proposed. But I quickly stopped myself from typing further and told myself, “Enough. No more. Even if you know what the solution is, it is not your responsibility to educate them. That is when you over‑extend yourself—and pretty soon, you feel the resentment and exhaustion.”

    That was the rescuing reflex. And this time, I caught it.

    Wise One Within:
    And you saw through their stall tactic: “We’ll check and look into it” is not commitment. It’s avoidance—a non‑response response that reveals the conflict‑avoidant pattern you’ve encountered so often in Filipino management culture.

    Thea:
    Exactly. And when I read that response, I didn’t say anything more. I immediately thought to myself, “Hmmm….This must be telling me it’s time to look for other laundry service providers.”

    And here’s the truth: this isn’t just about one laundry shop, nor is this the first interaction of this kind with the manager. I’ve had numerous similar conversations with them and with other establishments. It’s frustrating and exhausting to keep dealing with half-answers, ignored premises, and carrying other people’s comprehension on a daily basis. That’s the hidden labor that wears me down.

    Higher Self:
    This was never about detergent—it was about protecting the sanctity of your field. Their shortcuts threatened your energetic hygiene, and you refused to carry their burden. And if they insist on their lazy solution, you already know the next step: shift to another provider. That discernment is closure in motion: you stand, you speak, and you walk free.

    Every threshold is a rehearsal. Even in laundry shops, sovereignty is practiced. Even in detergent weights, trust is measured. Thea stands, and the sanctuary breathes.

    To anyone who happens to find this piece: welcome to Thea’s Truths & Thresholds. I’ve learned that the best way I can honor you is to stay honest with myself first. My hope is that by finding my own clarity, I might help you find yours, too. But if these words stay here in the quiet, that’s okay, too. Read more about the intention of Thea’s Truths & Thresholds here, A Letter to Myself: Why I am Building Thea’s Truths & Thresholds.

    This is my sanctuary. And in this sanctuary,
    I am finally home.

    A Note on a New Direction:

    After a month of blogging and 20 posts, starting on 13 January 2026, some of my future entries take a more personal shape—letters to myself and dialogues among the different voices of my lived experience. I will still share traditional reflections as they come, but for now, the path leads deeper into the sanctuary.

  • Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: Redefining What Matters

    Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: Redefining What Matters

    For a long time, the phrase “don’t sweat the small stuff” felt hollow to me. It sounded like bypassing. Dismissive. Like another way to excuse what should never have been excused. In my family, in systems that tolerated abuse, in environments that mistook generosity for obligation — those were never small. Those were patterns. Naming them was not oversensitivity; it was clarity.

    Now, in this quieter chapter, I see where the phrase actually lives. It never belonged in places where dignity was eroded or truth had to be swallowed to preserve appearances. But it does belong in how I move through relationships and daily exchanges — where discernment, not erasure, is the measure.

    Friends and Family

    With friends, I notice the difference.

    Claire, with whom I recently reconnected, is someone I can meet at depth, and she meets me there, too. When she didn’t call me back after saying she would, I felt the sting. Her later text about “peace of mind” landed tone‑deaf, and I caught myself bracing. But when we spoke again, the conversation was supportive and real. Because Claire consistently meets my clarity, I can choose to let go of her misstep. There are more substantial gifts her friendship brings, and I won’t make a big deal out of a missed call. That’s small stuff.

    With my family of origin, it was never small.

    There was a pattern of abuse and dysfunction. The time came when I no longer felt compelled to play the rescuer or victim in the drama triangle. I embraced my role as the truth‑teller, and that clarity cost me, but it was structural truth.

    *****

    Neighbors and Community

    The same with the condo community: entitlement and disrespect weren’t lapses, they were patterns. Patterns of abuse. That required fire.

    And yet, not every neighbor is the same.

    Jean has shown she can meet me at depth, even if my family estrangement story is foreign to her. Fatima, on the other hand, cannot meet me there. She is not malicious, and she cares in her own way, but her bandwidth is limited. I accept what she can offer without overextending myself. That’s discernment too.

    *****

    Cultural Terrain

    Even in cultural exchanges here in the Philippines, I’ve seen how politeness can mask avoidance. Hiya (shame), indirectness, palusot (excuses) — they surface daily. Naming them doesn’t mean it needs to be met, addressed, responded to, or even apologized for. Sometimes the truth lands in silence, sometimes in discomfort. Either way, I no longer carry the weight of how it is received.

    *****

    From One Extreme to Another

    In the corporate world, I wore the armor of title and leverage. I was often labeled mataray (feisty) or masungit (grumpy) — sharp, exacting, unbending.

    When I left that world, I overcorrected. Without positional power, I softened too much. I tried to become endlessly accommodating, mistaking self‑abandonment for humility. I lowered my voice, my expectations, my edges. At the time, I thought that was peace. Later I understood: it was erasure. Self-abandonment. Self-betrayal.

    Now I stand differently. I am no longer a boss, but I am still sovereign. I don’t need the armor, and I don’t need the overcorrection. What remains is discernment: fire for patterns, release for noise, acceptance for limits.

    The Reclaiming

    So I no longer confuse peace with silence, or anger with truth, or tolerance with wisdom.
    It keeps me from saying yes when I really mean no.
    It protects me from doing what isn’t mine to do — a reflex of my deeply ingrained rescuing pattern.
    A pattern that, thankfully, I was able to finally overcome only recently.
    My fire is ethical, not emotional.

    This is not numbness. It is grounded strength. Quiet authority. And for the first time, it feels like peace that does not ask me to shrink myself in order to exist.

    Not sweating the small stuff is a call for discernment — a practice of peace with integrity. It means I don’t shrink. I discern, and I choose.

    In the next entry, Everyday Discernment, I’ll share more examples of how this practice shows up in daily interactions — from service lapses to community exchanges — and how cultural values shape the terrain I navigate.

    If any part of this speaks to you, I invite you to share your reflections in the comment section below.

    Peace and Blessings,
    — Thea 💙