Sitting in the Car
I’m sitting in my car with the engine off, just staring ahead for a second before pulling out.
I had just walked out of a massage that didn’t go the way I thought it would. It was supposed to be 90 minutes. It ended up being something closer to 70. There was confusion about timing, paperwork, when the session actually started and ended. By the time it was over, I already felt a little off about the whole thing.
Then came the part that really stuck. I had gift cards that covered the service, but they told me those couldn’t be used for gratuity unless that was specified when the gift card was purchased. So now I was being asked to pay out of pocket, which I hadn’t expected.
And it wasn’t just about the inconvenience. It felt like I was being asked to spend more than the experience I actually received. Between the shorter session and the policy around the gift card, I was now in a position where I would be paying extra cash for something that already didn’t feel complete.
No manager was there to help. No real solution was offered. Just kind of a shrug and a policy.
So in that moment, not leaving a tip made sense to me.
It felt like a way to balance things out. Like I wasn’t overpaying for something that didn’t match what was promised. Like I was protecting myself from absorbing the cost of a system that wasn’t set up well.
So I made the call. I used the gift cards for the massage and walked out without leaving a tip.
The part I didn’t see in that moment was that the way I was trying to not overpay the system ended up taking it out on the one person who didn’t create the problem.
And sitting there in my car, I felt unsettled. If I hadn’t paused, I probably would have missed it.
The Part That Made Sense
If I slowed it down, my reasoning felt solid.
They didn’t communicate clearly. I didn’t get what I thought I was paying for. I shouldn’t have to pay extra on top of that.
There was a part of me that felt like I handled it well. I didn’t get taken advantage of. I didn’t overpay. I held a boundary.
All of that tracked. But my body didn’t feel settled.
It wasn’t dramatic. Just a kind of heaviness. A low-level tension that didn’t go away when I tried to justify the decision.
The Split Inside
As I sat there, I could feel two different pulls.
One part of me was still making the case. Replaying what happened, pointing out what wasn’t fair, reinforcing why I was right.
Another part of me kept coming back to something simpler. It’s not her fault.
The woman who gave the massage. She didn’t set the policy. She didn’t design the system. She was kind, she showed up, she did her job inside whatever structure she works in.
And now she was the one not getting paid.
That’s where it started to feel uncomfortable in a different way.
Not because I was wrong, but because something didn’t line up with how I actually want to move through the world.
Trying to “Win”
What I started to notice was how much of my decision was coming from wanting to win. I didn’t want to be the one who loses money. I didn’t want to be the one who gives in when something feels off.
There was a kind of principle in it. A sense of standing my ground. But the way I was doing it felt tight. It felt defensive.
It felt like I was protecting something, but also like I was closing off a part of myself that I actually care about.
The Decision to Go Back
After I took a beat in the car and noticed that unsettled feeling, I still wasn’t ready to do anything differently. But I also wasn’t ready to leave. So I just sat there for a minute.
I stayed in that tension a little longer and decided to use my “phone a friend” option.
So I called Alona and walked her through what happened. She listened and said, pretty simply, “I would just pay it.”
No big explanation. No pressure. I sat with that for a minute.
And it became clear pretty quickly that this wasn’t really about the money. It was about the feeling of being the one who gives in, or lets something go.
But when I checked in with myself honestly, holding the line didn’t actually feel like me in that moment.
So I went back in. I got some cash, handed it to them, and asked them to make sure she received it. That was it.
What Shifted
Walking back out to my car, I noticed something right away.
I felt lighter.
Nothing about the situation had changed externally. I had now spent more money than I wanted to. The original issue wasn’t resolved. I still didn’t agree with how it was handled.
But internally, something had settled. The tension I felt earlier wasn’t there anymore. My body felt quieter.
And that caught my attention. Because if I looked at it purely from a logical standpoint, this didn’t add up. I had just “lost” money.
But it didn’t feel like a loss.
What My Body Was Tracking
What I started to notice is that my body wasn’t reacting to the outcome. It was responding to whether something actually felt aligned.
When I left without tipping, even though my mind could justify it, something in me stayed unsettled. It felt like I had protected one thing while stepping over something else that actually matters to me.
When I went back and paid, it wasn’t because the situation suddenly became fair. It was because the action lined up more closely with how I want to show up, and my body reflected that almost immediately.
What also became clear to me in that moment is how different this is from the way I usually make decisions.
Most of the time, I’m trying to figure out what’s right. What makes sense. What I should or shouldn’t do.
But in that car, none of that really helped.
What helped was noticing what actually felt aligned. That quiet difference between something that felt tight and something that felt settled.
A Familiar Moment
I think most of us have had some version of this.
A moment where you can fully explain your decision and still feel off afterward.
Where you hold your ground, make your point, do what makes sense on paper, and something in you doesn’t quite relax.
It’s easy to override that feeling or explain it away. But when I slow down enough to notice it, it usually has something to say.
Still Learning This
I still think the situation should have been handled differently. I may still follow up with the manager.
But that’s separate from what I’m paying attention to here.
What stood out was how clear the signal was in my body, a quiet sense of heaviness when I was out of alignment, and a sense of ease when I moved back toward it.
I’m still learning how to listen to that without overthinking it or trying to turn it into a rule. But moments like this make it a little easier to trust.
Because even when my mind is making a strong case, there’s something deeper that seems to know when I’ve drifted off course. And when I’ve come back.
It’s not telling me what’s right or wrong. It’s just showing me what feels like me, and what doesn’t.
If you read this and recognized yourself in it, I’m putting together a companion guide where I walk through how to actually work with this in real time.
I’ll share simple ways to catch that signal in your body before you override it, what to do in those moments when you feel torn, and how to respond in a way you can actually sit with afterward. There are also real-life examples, short practices you can use during the day, and a few scripts you can lean on when you’re not sure what to say.
If you want support bringing this into your everyday life, you’re welcome to join us as a paid subscriber.
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