I lost my beloved coffee scale and had an identity crisis

Last month, I left my coffee scale at the B&B while collecting my luggage. The next morning I woke up in a hotel in a different city. I wanted to make coffee as usual and rummaged through my backpack, but I couldn't find the scale. I was furious and immediately accused my boyfriend of not packing my luggage carefully and how he could have lost my scale. For a moment, he could not accept my attack and became angry. Obviously this is our common task, and making mistakes is also a mistake made together. The top of me was even more angry. It could only be that he had thrown it, not me. I cared about it so much!

“What is your understanding of the consultation regulations?”

"If I remember correctly, cancellation or change must be made 48 hours in advance. If one party cancels within 24 hours, he will be responsible for this time. If it is me, I still need to pay; if it is you, it seems that you need to Compensation for a consultation.”

"What happens between 48 hours and 24 hours?"

"This is the contradiction. I don't remember much. The only thing I am sure of is that if I want to change or cancel, I must do so 48 hours in advance. If I cancel within 24 hours, I will be fully responsible for it."

A few days ago, I asked the counselor in an online chat to repeat these rules because my memory is always a little fuzzy. She suggested that we talk about it directly in consultation, about my memory and understanding of the rules. I find it interesting that we need to talk about this.

After a few back and forth conversations, I carefully reviewed my memories. The consultant suddenly said: "So you remember the stricter version. In fact, there is no 48-hour time limit."

I was at a loss. The words 48 hours were engraved in my brain. I repeatedly confirmed with her: "Are you sure you haven't mentioned it? Have you never mentioned it? Did you remember it wrong?"

She said: "Cancellations need to be made 24 hours in advance, and each of us cannot cancel more than six times a year, otherwise we will all be responsible for our own cancellation fees."

"Can't do it more than 6 times a year?" I was even more at a loss. The words "6 times" never entered my mind. The consultation stipulated that we mentioned it twice at the end of the fourth consultation and again at a later time because the consultant forgot to say it.

"Oh my God! I don't know how many times I've canceled? Do you know that?" I fell into a strong uneasy feeling that I might have sinned and exceeded the limit at this moment.

"I haven't counted. But it should not be more than 6 times. And if it is just rescheduled, not completely canceled, it will not be accumulated in the number of cancellations."

I’m okay with myself forgetting things. But I will never forget the things that I value very much. In other words, I think that I will never forget it no matter what. I can understand the recording of 24 hours as 48 hours - in order not to make mistakes, the brain has created another stricter version. But regarding the limit on the number of cancellations, I feel like I have never heard this sentence from beginning to end. I can't believe this sentence wasn't programmed into my brain. Psychological counseling is such an important thing to me, and I care so much about what the counselor thinks of me. I want to be a good client so deeply, how could I not remember it? Is she lying to me? I repeatedly confirmed with her, and she sent me a hard copy afterwards. If I still have any sense at this moment and can believe her, she did not lie to me.

To be precise, we lost the coffee scale together, since packing is a task shared by my boyfriend and I. But I still want to say that I lost it. Based on the objective fact that the coffee utensils belong to me, the coffee scale is my personal belongings at the inner level. Of all the belongings we have in two boxes and three bags, it may make them sad that I say this, but I have to be honest and say that I have different depths of emotion for different items. I can throw away a second-hand novel I bought in Chiang Mai, I can throw away a pair of socks, I can throw away a bottle of sunscreen, I am even willing to throw away a treasured postcard. But I don’t want to lose my coffee scale. From when I first gathered my own coffee equipment in the school dormitory and had a coffee corner next to the narrow table; to when it followed us around and helped me make coffee. When it comes to making coffee, it should also be said that I help us make coffee, because under my influence, my boyfriend also began to explore hand-made coffee in addition to making Moka pots. This makes me happy. In addition to coffee, it helps us accurately measure the salt for cooking pasta and the amount of yogurt to drink after a meal. These are the little joys in our lives.

In order to be more organized when collecting luggage, my boyfriend and I optimized a storage system, giving each commonly used item a fixed location and the same division of labor every time. Even so, I still lost my coffee scale. I lost my prized coffee scale and it was hard to come to terms with it. It’s hard to accept that my first reaction when I found out I lost my scale was to blame my boyfriend, and I couldn’t face my own part of the responsibility. I thought I had done my best to avoid this happening, I thought I had given storage enough attention, but it still happened. Of course, I know that in a life like ours where we move and move frequently, losing things is inevitable. But another strong voice in my head kept asking me, how could you forget what you love? You are not such a person.

What kind of person am I? I think I am a careful person. But I can't sugarcoat myself at the moment, I'm not careful in everything. I will pay attention to the details in life, and I will discover and get used to the big and small problems that appear in every corner of the homes I have lived in, and solve or adapt to them. Ironically, I would still say that my attentiveness is reflected in the fact that I take good care of the items that I value and that are important to me.

When we entered Indonesian customs two months ago, we did not unlock our mobile phones. As a result, after two months, our mobile phones turned into a brick that could only be connected to wifi and could not use mobile phone cards. Because my visa was arbitrarily modified by the staff before this, we spent some time solving this problem. Although it’s hard to admit it, I admit that I was very nervous about going through customs. After leaving that scene, I just wanted to leave quickly, so I didn’t pay enough attention to unlocking the phone. I can only live with what it brings now.

The next day, I went to apply for a mobile phone card. Before going out, I searched for the nearest business hall, checked the procedures and the time it might take, and found and contacted a nearby Chinese restaurant to exchange money. I carefully designed a set of routes so that my boyfriend, who had a high fever just after entering the country, could use his mobile phone card to make work calls with colleagues in the afternoon. I thought I was serious enough, but it turned out that the business office did not accept any international bank cards, and the Chinese restaurant did not expect me to ask for cash. How do I explain this to myself? I have bought mobile phone cards so many times in different countries, but I have never encountered a mobile phone store that cannot swipe cards; I just came from Nepal, a country with low digitalization, and I didn’t realize that Chinese restaurants defaulted to me not needing cash. . (By the way, you can even use visa cards to buy mobile phone cards in Nepal)

In a word, I thought I was serious enough, but that afternoon was very unsatisfactory. I ran around repeatedly. As a result, I wanted to help my boyfriend buy electrolyte water to help his body recover. I didn't have time to buy it, so I hurriedly sent the mobile phone card home. If I had not done my homework seriously, then I would have accepted all the setbacks calmly. But, I'm serious, why did something still go wrong? Is it my fault? Or is it Indonesia's fault? The Indonesian Customs cannot shirk its responsibility. Who can change my visa with a pen and make me lose my mind? But I don’t want to blame Indonesia entirely, because this may make me lose the tolerance to explore a new country after just a few days here. What should I do? I don’t want to admit that it’s all my fault. Although I can enter the mobile store more flawlessly with cash, the restaurant owner's thoughts are beyond my control. But why didn’t I ask the boss in advance that I wanted cash? Forget it, if you blame yourself any more, you will have no end to blame. These people did not share the responsibility with me, and no one apologized to me. I feel so wronged, and I am the only one here to reflect. It's stuck, but we can't just let it go. I felt a strong struggle, as if there was a court going on in my heart. I was the plaintiff and defendant, and I was the only one in the gallery. I needed a conclusion, and I didn't even need anyone else to join in. I needed to be convinced myself.

Time passed slowly, and life took away my attention from this court that was yet to be tried. It wasn’t until I lost my coffee scale, until I failed to remember the rules of the consultation, that this intense struggle resurfaced. “I’m careful about the things I care about so that things don’t go wrong.” This seems to be such a deep part of my identity. But it was challenged once, twice, three times. It's a bit like waking up one day and someone telling you by your bedside that you are actually a man and not a woman - it is such a cognitive subversion for me.

It’s hard for me to accept that I lost my coffee scale, forgot the consultation regulations, and didn’t register my phone when I went through customs. Because these things are so important to me, it’s hard for me to face that I did do these things. I thought again along the lines of inertia, could it be that I had made some mistakes in the past and was severely punished, and was I traumatized? Or have I been taught not to make mistakes since I was a child? I can't remember anything, except that when I first entered elementary school, my mother was very strict with my studies, so much so that when I got 98 points instead of 100 points in my English test, I cried first because I was afraid of being scolded when I got home. However, I think it is indeed a bit far-fetched to connect with the original family so casually. I don’t know why, and I will seriously discuss this with a counselor. But now, my identity is being challenged, and I feel so fucking uncomfortable!

Editor: ale