“Stop Touching Me!”
Last night I got home from work exhausted. I poured myself a Coke Zero with a generous splash of Bacardi. It wasn’t from a full day of meetings with clients or the fact that it was a late night at the Cubs game (the good guys won this one).
It was from an exchange with someone who knows how to push every single button to drive me crazy. Maybe I’m the only one but I don’t think so.
It doesn’t really matter how much time elapses but there are certain people that just have the unique gift to push every one of your buttons. You know the buttons . . . the ones that bring out the angry eyes . . . the ones that drive you completely crazy.
It may be a coworker, family member, spouse or ex-spouse but somehow they know where all the buttons are hidden. It’s sort of like those family vacations I remember growing up. Three boys all in the back seat trying not to get caught irritating the bejesus out of the one sitting next to them. And just like in professional sports, it was usually the responder not the initiator who got caught.
“Stop touching me!” was usually the cry that got the response from the adults in the front seat. I think traveling like that was inhumane. How could you not work at irritating the brother sitting next to you? The big bench seat up front had this wide open space but the back seat? It seemed smaller than a seat on a regional jet today.
You couldn’t even change position without bumping the kid next to you and this was long before seatbelts were required for all passengers!
I recall a friend telling of their car rides as kids. The dad apparently left a ruler on the front dash of the car and when things got out of hand, the ruler came over the front bench seat swinging back and forth trying to connect with one or both of the kids all the while yelling: “you don’t want me to stop the car and settle this!” They got very skilled at finding the corners where the ruler did not reach.
I was usually the one getting caught in this insane crossfire. My twin brother, whom I always associated with that scheming biblical twin of note Jacob, seemed never to get caught. (By the way, while I love food, I never sold my birthright to him for anything!) Maybe it was because I always had all the subtly of Esau.
Even though he’s not the subject of today’s blog he can still push those same buttons and take me back more than 40 years to those days. (And, I can push his, too. I guess that comes from being womb-mates.)
So let me ask you: how do you move beyond and not let those people push your sanity over the edge?
Most of the time I’m able to go with the flow even if it’s a bit bumpy along the way. But every once in a while I run across someone who is intent on pushing every single button that brings out the angry eyes as one close friend refers to them. I wish I didn’t. So if you’ve got some advice, I’m all ears.
Cooking up Ideas 
We call it keeping my side of the street clean. Typically button pushers are doing something on their side of the street. Let them, you cannot control their actions. I use the Serenity Prayer a lot on those days, “Lord, give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.” Part 1, accept the things I cannot change, was very hard for me to do, especially in traffic. I lived life attempting to fix it all, generally with a harsh word, a honking horn, a blunt instrument or various combinations of the aforementioned. I still struggle but my side of the street is where I live now, what I have found is if you stay on your side of the street, they can’t reach your buttons. Heck even my Mom and I don’t fight anymore.
Good words, Ford. I will have to learn to live only on my side of the street. It’s hard when the thugs show up on your side of the street. Thanks for the insights!