Early this week I took my laptop to a café with wi-fi, because my Internet connection had been down all day, and I needed to check e-mail. I enjoyed an hour there with a tuna sandwich and coffee, classical music in the background, and the genial bustle of the suprisingly large late afternoon crowd—a welcome contrast to the quiet aloneness of my standard work day. Even though I hadn’t felt down when I arrived, being there had lifted me up.

So I was feeling good and light-hearted as I stood on the curb waiting to cross the street. And then I heard a voice greeting me by name. When I turned, there he was, the ex. Our relationship has been the most challenging and painful of my adult life. He is my Ultimate Challenging Person.

We chatted for a few minutes. He asked me about my work, I asked him about his. He showed me his new car. I focused on his smile and the way his eyes crinkled and shined as he looked at me. He was genuinely glad to see me. That look, one of pure appreciation, had sparked the chemical reaction between us years ago. But this time, his smile aggravated me. How could he could act as though he had no knowledge of our last unpleasant interaction? How was it that he never  showed the least residual affect from the pain of our past relationship? I excused myself as gently and as quickly as I could, and as I got into my car, concentrated on my breathing for a while and relaxed, relieved our encounter had been so brief.

I had planned to give blood that day, so I drove the few miles to the blood bank, signed in, and read a cooking magazine until the tech called me. She took my blood pressure, and when she reported the results I was alarmed the numbers were so high—well into the hypertension range. My blood pressure readings are usually low normal. I thought I was relaxed. But obviously I wasn’t. When the tech told me the numbers, I became aware of the tightness in my chest.

Since then, I’ve been reflecting on meeting the Ultimate Challenging Person and my high blood pressure. Of course, the former resulted in the latter. But why? I saw this man briefly. He was genuinely glad to see me. But in my mind I stirred it up into a Very Big Negative Event.

For a long time I had carried with me a sense of dread about running into him. Many places around town remind me of him, and  I’d only very recently gotten to the point where I could go for several days in a row without thinking about him. As soon as I saw him I felt flooded with dark feelings of anxiety and hurt. Even though I thought the flood was over the moment I stepped away from him, obviously it wasn’t. I  had carried strong unhealthy feelings with me to the blood bank. I carried them unconsciously—and they pressed on my heart. My body was aware of the heavy load of junk I’d been hauling around, even though my mind wasn’t.

And you know what? Here is the real truth: the rise in blood pressure had little to do with him and everything to do with me. Consciously or unconsciously, I am making the choice to suffer and that choice does damage to my body, my self.