Recently, I paid for the next term of my physical/emotional therapy (sort of). The fee was much higher than I had thought, but before I realized I already signed up and paid full price. It was one of those compulsive payment moments where I got carried away by the momentum and euphoria.

After signing up I still asked myself if it was the right thing to do. Every time my self-doubt came up I countered it with at least three reasons to rationalize my decision. “It is worth it” was my conclusion and that was it. Logically, I had no problem with it (I still do not).

Then, one day before the next session, I abruptly cancelled it.

I didn’t have a strong reason to do so. I just did not feel like going and there was no penalty anyhow. The strange thing was, even though I truly was busy that day, I had no particular reason to not go. It was like I hated going for no reason, like a small child suddenly ducking under the sheet before the school bus arrives.

And now, some days later in a clear mind, I must admit: I did hate the idea of going. Or I could say I hated them. I hated them for letting me sign up for something I shouldn’t have done. And I wanted to give a statement by not showing up. Pathetic as it is, that was what demotivated me.

Of course, the real target of my hatred was my stupid and impetuous and weak self, as always. The day I canceled the session, I couldn’t do anything at all despite clearing up my schedule. I spent the rest of the day wrapped in subconscious resentment, resulting in binge eating that temporarily wiped off the almost-blossoming result of my diet scheme.

Back into the present moment with a clear head, I see no fault in the program or them at all. There was no jack-up in pricing and the program is valuable and they are true professionals who know what they offer and deliver on their promise. The problem was how I made my decision: I did not communicate well about my financial situation beforehand. With them? Sure, but more importantly, with myself.

I skipped the most crucial part of decision making—communicating with my gut feeling—and reached the conclusion through my head, thinking I was just going with the “flow.” Big mistake. My head is always poking itself into the cloud, oblivious to the undercurrent that actually carries my body. I had to reach down, not up. The “flow” does not exist in my imagination. It exists in reality, in my body and soul.

It wasn’t about whether the decision I made was right or wrong. I likely have made the same decision even after having a long talk with my gut. It was about my neglecting the talk at all. And now I am paying its price by beating and covering myself up in guilt and shame and anger and resentment.

How can I fix my mistake and move ahead? By trying to renegotiate the term? That might work, but again, that isn’t the point. The point was my neglect to listen, which was done in a subconscious, covert operation mode. And because the origin was covert, the following incidents also became covert: canceling the session (covert statement to them), binge eating (covert self-hatred), negative emotions popping out of nowhere (covert emotional revenge for neglect).

The right way to fix this is to bring “covert” behavior and attitude into open air. If I brought up my financial situation right from the beginning, things might have been totally different, even if the final decision remained the same. Nobody would have been attacked directly or indirectly, and nobody would have been left wondering what the heck happened to me.

Because I can only fix my behavior for now and the future, I can start by listening—to the roaring guilt and shame and anger and resentment in my gut that are happening right now. And to tell my negative inner brothers that I started to listen and suck up my actions and their consequences, I have written up this article. I hope they can hear me now.