I wonder whether any of you has buttons. I'll bet you know what they are. In fact, I'm pretty sure your loved ones not only know what they are but delight in pushing them from time to time. There seems to be nothing more satisfying sometimes than to get a rise out of someone who at that moment really ticked us off. Alas, when we let ourselves do that, we often take a little chink out of that fragile relationship we cherish. To quote Pink (I know, ME quote Pink?), "Why do we do that? Why do I do that? Why do I do that?"
Let's see. I know two of my buttons...not necessarily the kind that make me angry but the kind that leave me most vulnerable and hurt the most when pushed. One is that I just want people to like me. The second is that it drives me practically insane when I learn that someone, ANYone finds fault with me for whatever reason, real or imagined. With the never-ending drama of my life in the past, well, forEVER, I have wondered whether it's my vulnerability that invites the incessant button pushing or whether the pushers have chosen those buttons in particular, simply because there is more joy for them, knowing that these hurt the most. So, again, because I hate to think too much about THAT, I turn it to myself and wonder, "How do I treat others?" I wonder whether I'm a button pusher, and even worse, am I a KNOWING button pusher?
I try and try NOT do that. I agonize over everything. I'm kind of a nervous wreck. Take my husband, for example. I know his vulnerabilities, and I not only try to steer clear of them, but I try to protect his feelings in those areas. I'm not as good at as I'd like to think. I try to do the same with Scott and Kristi too. Doesn't always work. And, of course, when I mess up and step on those buttons, they all like to come down on me like a ton of bricks. ::sigh::
Early in the days of my first marriage, my then-husband told me that he and one of his close friends, a guy I'd had a huge crush on for years, sat at the back of the chapel during testimony meeting shortly after I came home from my one year at BYU. That was the first time I had met the man I would marry, when he came to my dorm to pick up my trunk about two weeks before I came home. Anyway, he and his friend, he tells me, sat back there while I was bearing my testimony and made fun of all the gushy, just-came-home-from-BYUness of me. This conversation had to be almost 30 years ago, and it still makes me blush as I remember how mortified I was when he told me.
See, that's one of those buttons of mine. It used to make me mad, which was my reaction to huge embarrassment. I just ache when I feel that someone doesn't like me or finds me laughable in some way. So here's my then-husband, the man with whom I was trying to carve out a life, stomping with glee all over that button. And even worse was the fact that the other person in the story was someone I had liked so much. ::sigh::
I know I talk a lot. I know I chatter. It's like a fountain, all flowing almost uncontrollably. It embarrasses me. I have several children who do the same. I still love to hear them talk. Sometimes it makes my job very difficult, because, face it, someone who likes to talk sure isn't having any fun when he or she has to sit still and shut up while SOMEONE ELSE does all the talking!
Do you have any idea how hard it is to NOT talk? Especially when you feel completely safe and secure with the person who is talking with you? It's nigh unto impossible for me. It's not that I think I have so much to say or that I think I am so interesting. It's that I notice and feel and ponder about so much. And I love, love, love to laugh. It seems I'm almost always bubbling with unexpressed laughter. Everything is funny. I mean, my life kinda sucks much of the time. If I don't laugh, I'll just spend all my time sharpening razor blades and crying all over the place! It's bad enough that I often find myself expressing my dark thoughts all over Facebook or my blog. Trust me, in person, I'm not like that. But now I feel like I have to find a way to turn that part of me off. I'm really losing who I am. Who I used to be.
::sigh::
So, yeah, I've got nothing else to say. Oh, well, to be honest, I have a LOT more to say. I'm just not going to say it. Nope. I'm just going to sit here and keep my big. fat. mouth. shut. I can do it, right?
