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I hate being interrupted. 

Growing up as a quiet child in a family of loudmouths, finishing a thought was a constant struggle. Every conversation felt like a fight for myself, a battle to express my needs, a war to be seen and understood. 

My thoughts materialize slowly—like wool being spun into yarn. 

For me, there is no greater treasure than a thoughtful conversation. Like buying a handmade good from an artisan, thoughtful conversation requires patience and a willingness to invest in the mutual exchange of feelings and ideas. 

My family? They’d prefer to race through Walmart, grabbing items off the shelf like they’re in an episode of Supermarket Sweep. No care for craft, thoughtfulness, or the grand reveal of a precious idea that’s been percolating beneath the surface.  

Being interrupted can feel like an assault. The violence of being shut down, silenced, and shoved to the sidelines sinks deep into the nervous system, following you around like a monster lurking in the shadows. 

As you age, interruptions become more pronounced, like when your creative flow is interrupted by an overflowing toilet. When your Zoom call is interrupted by a sick child. When your grand plan is interrupted by death.

Life is a series of interruptions.

I’m learning that interruptions are the only thing that’s real, the only truth we can truly rely on. 

Interruptions are the pause that allow us to glimpse, ever so briefly, the truth that we are all stars spinning through the chaos of the cosmos. Interruptions bop our egos on the head, saying, “Shhh, quiet. What you think isn’t real. What you see isn’t truth. There’s more here for you if you’d just stop and listen.” 

I think I’m learning to love being interrupted. 

I’m learning to embrace unexpected roadblocks and abrupt changes in the plan. “You’re not being victimized,” I remind myself when my dog gets sick, when my pipes burst in the freeze, when the deal I was hoping for doesn’t go through. 

Instead of spiraling into self-pity and frustration, I look to the stars and ask, “Okay, what’s this about? Why is this interruption happening now?” If I pause and listen, I can usually hear the answer. And there usually is an answer! Most times, interruptions aren’t accidents. 

To be clear, I still get annoyed AF when someone interrupts me mid-sentence. It’s a childhood wound that will always fester. That’s probably why I like writing emails—you can’t respond until I’m finished. 😈 

But the more I soften my reaction to interruptions in the grander scheme, the less stressed I feel. Embracing interruptions is helping me move more gently through the world while running my business with more trust and ease. 

I’m curious, how do you react when your plan is interrupted? 

Think about the last time something unexpected happened, disrupting your plan and sending your day, week, or month into chaos. How did you feel? What did you do? And more importantly, what might’ve been different if you had embraced the interruption instead of resisted it? 

What if the interruption is actually a gift? 

I welcome your reply. Take as much time as you need to form your thoughts. I’ll be here when you’re ready to share, and I promise I won’t interrupt you.