Have you ever had one of those moments where you thought, “Oh no, did I really just do that?”
I’ve had many, and – well, I had one of those this past weekend. It all started during a magical Tantra workshop Thomas and I were facilitating: Awakening Passion: Trust, Play & Love.
Everything was flowing beautifully—the students were connecting, exploring boundaries, and sharing heart-opening moments. We were on a roll! But then… I had a 30-second slap-in-the-face moment, and no, it wasn’t from Thomas.
Let me explain.
The 30-Second Slap
During our closing circle, everyone had limited time to share their final thoughts. Thomas, being the loving and supportive husband that he is, joked to the group that he’s learned never to time his wife. Everyone laughed, including me. He started speaking—acknowledging the courageous students and the very helpful assistants. Then, I felt it.
That familiar urge to nudge him along crept in. So, I did our secret “move it along” cue: I tapped his heel with my foot. You know, the subtle partner code.
But Thomas calmly said, “You don’t need to tap my heel,” and continued speaking.
It was like being slapped in the face with a truth bomb. How dare he call me out in front of the group?
I felt a wave of rage, immediately followed by embarrassment. Did they notice my face flush? This time, it wasn’t from his adoring words but from sheer discomfort.
Blame is a prison in which you no longer hold the keys to freedom.
The Real Slap: My Own Wake-Up Call
Then it hit me—harder than any slap ever could: I timed him. The very thing he had just joked about not doing to me, I did to him. The slap wasn’t from Thomas—it was from me; wake up, Sara!
I was rattled. Here I was, sitting in my own mess of emotions while Thomas continued singing my praises in front of the group. I could barely hear what he was saying because I felt so much shame and guilt.
And then, as if in slow motion, I started to soften. I saw in his face that even though I totally messed up, he still loved me. He wasn’t angry. He was still standing in his love. I could feel how much he cared, even if my foot tap had momentarily rattled us both.
Can I meet him in that place of love, instead of getting stuck in my own drama?
Based on my first reaction, I’m so glad I didn’t fire a dagger at Thomas. I’ve learned to contain my flash of anger, knowing there is something else under there.
I met him there, in that love, and did my best to let it in.
Looking back, I wish I’d had the presence to handle that moment differently.
What if I’d paused and apologized for stepping on his time? What if I had been more open and honest about what I was feeling?
That opportunity to apologize came later. We definitely needed to talk this through.
The Long Ride Home: Argument #17
Now, if you think we quickly made up, hugged, and were fine. Yes we hugged and — no. This is real life.
On our way home, we both felt the weight of a few unspoken tensions, those small moments that add up over time. It sounded like playing an old recording of Argument #17—the one about “feeling interrupted” and “you’re always telling me what to do.” We’ve been here before.
But this time, instead of just replaying our past arguments, we got curious. What was really under this? Why do these little things set us off?
When we take responsibility for our feelings, hurt, and shame, the path out gets clearer.
Underneath It All: What Was Helpful Isn’t Anymore
When we first started teaching together, I felt relief when Thomas chimed in to offer clarity if my guidance sounded confusing. Now, I feel like he interrupts me, taking it over as his.
Meanwhile, Thomas used to appreciate it when I planned our events and organized the schedule (can you see where this is going?). Now, he feels like I’m bossing him around or being critical. Fancy that!
We both had to admit—it’s a challenge, but we’re committed to trying to stop this pattern. We made peace with the fact that we’ll probably have Argument #17 again at some point, but hopefully, we’ll keep it shorter next time. And maybe we’ll get back to love just a little quicker.
Relationships are the crucible for growth. Often, my triggers trigger my partner. Thomas describes it well: “It’s an opportunity to alchemize a new pathway.” If only we could remember that when we were in the fire.
The Art of Returning to Love
Love is a practice, and unearthing love after a misunderstanding? That’s an art form. It takes trust, a sense of humor, and a whole lot of vulnerability. It takes recognizing that beneath the surface squabbles, we don’t mean to hurt each other, there is a foundation of love holding us. These moments are opportunities to grow closer.
In the end, all the little issues between us are nothing compared to the love we share. As the weekend workshop so beautifully emphasized, Awakening Passion is about trust, play, and love. And sometimes, it’s about messing up, owning it, and moving forward together.