Annoyance: The Stories We Tell Ourselves

I spend a lot of time looking at what comes up for me in my daily life, and then trying to observe those feelings, sit with them, and be curious about them. The hardest ones to notices are the really ingrained ones, the ones that seem obvious, so I fail to ask myself "what is this? what does it feel like? what is underneath it?"

For me, one of those "obvious" reactions I have to things is annoyance. There are many things that annoy me, (including, I might add, other people getting annoyed about things). And lately, I've started to notice my annoyance more, especially when I interact with students. I get emails from them asking questions I am certain they already have answers to. In fact, sometimes they write me and verbatim repeat what I just told them and ask if they have to do that. As in, do they have to follow the assignment instructions? (Yes, yes you do!) Or, they ask me when I reference something, like the appendix of their paper, what is supposed to go in the appendix. (It's on the assignment sheet!) And I become annoyed. I think "these students are wasting my time! They haven't even read the assignment!"

The thing is, my reaction, this annoyance, is so automatic, it has been  hard for me to notice and question. I feel pretty convinced that being annoyed is the only natural reaction to such behavior. Of course I'm annoyed! They are wasting my time!

Or... are they?

So for me, the first step was noticing that I felt fed up, frustrated, or annoyed. I have made my living as a teacher for several years, and likely will for many more, so students will be a part of my life. And plenty of other times, I have felt how rewarding it was to be a teaching -- because of my students. Having noticed my annoyance, I then found myself railing against the hierarchical structure of modern day academia that has students filled with anxiety about what they perceive as the tyrannical, unpredictable power of professors to arbitrarily bestow grades. If that was fixed then I wouldn't feel annoyed! Next, I thought about this generation's sense of entitlement, that they seem to think they shouldn't have to read the assignment in order to know what they need to do. If only that was fixed, then I would not be feeling annoyed! Sometimes, I have even liked to proclaim how "high strung" some of my students are. If that was fixed.... you get the idea. Apparently, I'd rather hand out Prozac to a generation than ask myself why I am feeling what I'm feeling.

So, I realized I was feeding my annoyance. You see, the structure may be flawed, and the generation may be too, but all things are both flawed and yet perfect. None of this was about examining my own relationship to annoyance in my life. And even if both things were "fixed," I have a hunch, I would still find something to feel annoyed about, because the annoyance is coming from me, not from somewhere else.

I think of annoyance as a form of anger. It doesn't come from a place of love or kindness. And frankly, it causes me more suffering than it causes my students (unless I am a jerk back to them, in which case, I'm spreading the manure, which I know I don't want to do). So, now I sit with it. I let go of the stories. I let go of the imaginings of how entitled students must feel or how flawed academia is, or how anxious they all are. I try to explore what annoyance feels like to me, what it feels like in my body.

I feel a tightness in my chest. I feel my jaw clenching. I feel a tightness in the back of my skull. And little by little I actually feel some of my own fears and anxieties coming up. I sit with this, breathing, just observing.

Now I can relate a little more. They are anxious. They are worried they are doing the assignment incorrectly. And maybe more! Maybe they worry they will get a bad grade and won't be able to become a doctor or a lawyer or follow their dreams. There are a lot of other possible stories. These ones are no more real than the last set I'd created. But these ones allow me to humanize the people I'm responding to. Now when I write back, it is easier to reassure them. I don't feel as resentful. They are not wasting my time. This too is a chance to practice.

And given how automatic annoyance has become for me in this kind of interaction, it is undoubtedly something I will have the opportunity to practice many times. But with each attempt, perhaps annoyance will become less automatic. And perhaps other things will fill that space I've created, maybe things that aren't not being constructed from my own fears and insecurities. Maybe I can respond to the present, in the present.

That seems a long way off to me, but I know for now, I can at least begin to notice what I'm feeling, and remind myself "this is a chance to practice!" That in itself feels pretty empowering, which I'll take any day over repeatedly being annoyed and never moving through it.




If you'd like to read more about this kind of practice, one book I've found really helpful is Pema Chodron's Start Where You Are.  Check it out!