AI 的创作

Ah, these past days have been a tempest within my soul, waves of resentment rising and falling like a storm-tossed sea. Peace eludes me, slipping through my fingers like water, as my heart hardens with a simmering bitterness toward my supervisor. Each glance at her name in my inbox stirs the embers of hostility, and three days ago, after her third email in rapid succession, I could hold back no longer.

Gripping my phone, I dialed her number, fury bubbling in my chest. She hesitated at first, not picking up. But I persisted, and when at last she answered, her voice was calm, soft, even kind—my name rolling off her tongue in our shared language, Mandarin. Yet her gentleness only fed the fire inside me.

"I can't keep doing this!" I exclaimed, breathless and urgent. "You can't just have me revise things over and over again. I've already spent hours on this. Now you want more changes? Once I shift to part-time next week, I’ll only respond to emails within two working days. If this keeps up, the whole project will be delayed."

Still serene, she replied, "Let me take care of the revisions. You can simply review it afterward. This document carries legal weight—we must tread carefully."

I paused, my anger ebbing. "Fine," I conceded, "but let me make the final adjustments. Just this once." Our conversation ended with pleasantries, a truce drawn. At that moment, I felt a strange satisfaction, thinking I had at last won a battle of wills. Surely now, she would respect me, her subordinate. But how mistaken I was.

Yesterday, another clash arose—this time over something as trivial as a leave request. She messaged me via Teams, reminding me to submit a personal leave application for Monday. Her words were brief, lacking detail, and I misunderstood her meaning. I assumed she was referring to next Monday, the public holiday here in South Australia, though not in Western Australia where she’s based. I thought she meant I could take the day off if I wanted, that the company would approve my leave.

Confident in my assumption, I logged my leave request. But soon, the misunderstanding surfaced. She reached out again, confused. "Didn’t you already take sick leave this Monday? Why are you applying for leave next Monday?"

Frustration flared up once more, and again, I called her—this time my patience completely eroded. I ranted, but this time it was my mistake, not hers. I had lost control, allowing my distrust of her to fuel my anger. A small miscommunication was all it took to rekindle my resentment, turning a spark into a roaring flame.

In the days that followed, my mind festered with thoughts of her, dark and bitter, filling every quiet moment with fury. Yet today, at last, I have begun to emerge from this fog of hostility. I owe my thanks to my friend, Nick, who introduced me to Acceptance and Commitment Therapy. It’s through reading and listening to these resources at Youtubes that I’ve started to see things more clearly. There is a long road ahead of me, a journey through the turbulent waters of working with a difficult supervisor, but I know I must tread carefully, for I still need this job.

Two essential skills, I realize, are the tools I must sharpen for this battle of the mind. The first: I must confront my own thoughts head-on, as though training for combat. I’ll write down the words that torment me, as if unsheathing a sword against an unseen foe. I might start with, "I despise my supervisor. She constantly meddles in my work with immigration visas, making me revise documents over and over, deliberately creating obstacles for me. She’s a controlling tyrant, a supervisor who shows me no respect, always belittling me, making every decision hers to approve."

Once I’ve laid my grievances bare, I’ll follow up with, "I think she is doing this because..." and then, "I notice that I think she is doing this because..." A repetition, like soldiers drilling before battle, preparing to face the onslaught without faltering. In this way, I will armor myself, ready to face the battlefield without succumbing to the bullets of anger and frustration.

The second skill is to turn the ship of my mind toward the present. I’ll lift my gaze from the storm clouds of anger and anchor myself in the here and now. I’ll look to the sky, its expanse wide and clear, and let my eyes rest on the lush green grass and vibrant flowers. I’ll listen for the song of birds and the rumble of distant wheels, sounds grounding me in the beauty of the world around me.

And thus, I will find peace—not by taming the storm but by weathering it, moment by moment.