Chaos, Car Keys, and Clarity

This has been a tough week.
But one of those sneaky, educational ones.

The kind where nothing catastrophic happens…
but everything is just off enough to wear you down.

It started with the mechanic shop.

Now—to be fair—they do excellent work.
That’s part of what made this so frustrating.

Because wrapped around that good work…
was chaos.

We were called and told our fob had been lost—
which immediately raised the question:
how are they working on the vehicle if they don’t have the fob?

Then somehow, we were handed someone else’s fob.
And apparently, someone else was handed ours.

We didn’t realize it at first—because we had a working one with us.
It wasn’t until we got home and received a phone call that the mix-up surfaced.

Appointments delayed.
And when it came time to deal with insurance,
even after three revisions – the wording on the invoice still wasn’t correct  
to reflect why the vehicle had actually been towed.

Each day, we were told the same thing—

“It’s being worked on right now. We’ll call you.”

And each day…
no call came.

A day or two, I understand.
Things get busy.

But this went on for a week.

By the beginning of another week of waiting,

I was trying to figure out whether I needed to cancel more appointments….

because I still didn’t have my truck.

Calls went unanswered.
Voicemails went unanswered.

By the end of the day, there was this growing sense of unease.

Not just inconvenience—
something didn’t feel right.

So we borrowed a vehicle and drove there.

Because this wasn’t the first time I’ve felt that kind of silence.

Years ago, with Scott’s motorcycle, we had a similar experience—
no returned calls, no updates…
until we showed up in person and found out the bike had been totaled,
and they were trying to figure out how to handle it.

So this time…
I wasn’t willing to just wait and hope for a call back.

None of these things, on their own, would have been enough to make a decision.

Mistakes happen.
Delays happen.
Miscommunication happens.

But this wasn’t one thing.

It was the way each issue stacked on top of the next—
the lost fob, the wrong fob,
the invoice that wasn’t correct, parts we had been waiting on… returned,
the daily “we’ll call you” with no follow-through,
the silence when we needed answers.

At some point, it stopped being a series of inconveniences
and started becoming something I couldn’t keep smoothing over.

It became clear that much of the breakdown was coming from one point of communication.
And while I know the owner ultimately carries responsibility,
the experience itself is what I had to respond to.

So I made a decision.

Not dramatically.
Not angrily.
Just… clearly.

I’m no longer willing to live with that level of friction.

And I won’t be putting myself back into that situation again.

And here’s the part that surprised me—

I felt bad.

Even knowing the issues.
Even knowing the impact it had on our time, our energy, our life.

There was still that pull—
Did I come on too strong?
Did I hurt someone’s feelings?

And underneath that…

The deeper realization:

I’m allowed to choose less friction.

I’m allowed to set a boundary
before I’m completely worn down.

I’m allowed to say,
“This doesn’t work for me,”
without needing it to be catastrophic first.

At the same time, something else shifted this week.

I had let go of a client a couple weeks ago who carried a similar kind of friction.

And suddenly…

Everything got quiet.

No pressure.
No constant urgency.
No feeling like I was being pulled in ten directions at once.

And instead of immediate relief…

There was this strange feeling of:

Am I doing enough?
Shouldn’t I feel busier?
Why does this feel… unfamiliar?

It made me realize just how used I had become
to operating inside pressure.

Like stress had quietly become a measuring stick.

And without it,
I wasn’t entirely sure how to gauge my own worth.

That’s a little uncomfortable to admit.

But also… kind of freeing to see.

Because maybe this quiet isn’t wrong.

Maybe it’s not a sign that something is missing.

Maybe it’s what happens
when friction is finally allowed to leave.

At some point, it’s not about fixing the situation—
it’s about choosing not to stay in it.

Sitting here with my tea, I’m realizing…
peace feels a little strange when you’re used to chaos.
But I think I’m willing to get used to this instead.