As much as I hate to admit it, some people really push my buttons.
She is the MOST negative person I know!
I can’t stand how judgmental he is.
Does she even notice that I am here?
Sometimes it makes me wonder why they’re even in my life.
But recently, I found myself wondering something completely different.
Why do they push my buttons?
Are they that unhappy with their own lives?
Do they have some deep sense of inadequacy?
Are they just so self-absorbed that they can’t see anyone else?
I like to think of myself as a caring person. Someone who truly wants people to be happy. When I see someone who I believe is filled with negative energy, the engineer in me sees a problem and moves directly into problem-solving mode.
How unfortunate. How can I help them see how wrong they are? How can I help that person see things more positively? To see the value they have? To see the goodness in others?
That may work in the physical world, but human emotions are not driven by mathematical equations or logic. Perhaps my heart is in the right place, but after decades of trying to change others, I have reached the unmistakable realization that I do not possess that skill. In fact, I question whether any of us do.
Recently, I started reading Pema Chödrön’s book, Welcoming the Unwelcome: Wholehearted Living in a Brokenhearted World. It’s a wonderful book that has me rethinking everything.
She forced me to see that I am trying to solve the wrong problem.
Pema suggests that when we feel hooked, when something triggers an emotional reaction and we just can’t let it go, the place to look for the answer is not in the motivations or the heart of someone else. Instead, we should turn the spotlight back on ourselves.
Why do I feel so much energy toward this? Why do I feel hooked?
Wait a minute, Pema! Are you saying it’s my fault?
No. It isn’t. But how I react to it belongs to me.
I may have no control over what someone else says or does. I may even be completely justified in finding their behavior hurtful, judgmental, or offensive. But once I am hooked, endlessly replaying the conversation, assigning motives, building a case for why they are wrong, I am the one keeping the hook buried deep within me.
And that’s something I can work with.
How many times have I walked away from a frustrating or disappointing interaction with someone, my mind replaying the event over and over and over again? Each time it is amplified and expanded. I may even be framing it in loving terms.
Can’t they see how much they are hurting themselves with that crazy false belief?
And the thing is, I may even be right.
But does it matter who’s right? Does it really matter?
Imagine your spouse says or does something that hooks you. Your mind just can’t let it go. Maybe they don’t even realize it and go about their day completely unaware. Then, an hour later, you’re talking about something completely unrelated, but your head is still spinning. What’s the chance you’ll respond in a less-than-loving manner? If you’re at all like me, there is unquestionably a “non-zero probability.”
The first step is simply recognizing that you’re hooked. You don’t have to understand why. Just acknowledge the emotion.
I feel hurt. Angry. Unsettled.
But there is something important here. Acknowledge the emotion. Don’t attribute blame. For me, that’s the hard part. After all, I didn’t do anything wrong.
As I sat and listened to Pema’s words, I replayed a recent interaction that had upset me, and suddenly I saw it clearly. I was hooked like a trout on opening day. Just that realization gave me a whole new perspective, and I found myself asking the next obvious question.
Why did it bother me so much?
That question haunted me for quite a while, particularly when I stopped trying to determine the other person’s motivations or intentions. When I simply sat with: What am I truly feeling?
Then, I asked the next question. The one that has continued to echo in my mind days later.
Have I ever done anything to make someone else feel this same way?
Next time an interaction with someone leaves you hooked, try asking yourself that question. The key is not to couch the answer in what your intent was. That doesn’t actually matter here, at least not yet.
It wasn’t easy to answer that question honestly. All my defenses screamed, Of course not. i would never intend to hurt someone like that. But then I took intent out of the question, and the answer became far more sobering.
And with that came a sense of understanding. Of compassion.
We don’t have to understand the intent of the other person. In fact, we can never really know what is in their heart any more than they can know what is in ours.
In Welcoming the Unwelcome, Chödrön writes about what she calls our Comfort Zone and Learning Zone. The Comfort Zone is familiar territory, the habits and patterns that make us feel safe. I began to see that my own comfort zone included the stories I told myself about other people’s behavior. I know why they did that. I know what kind of person does that.
But true growth begins when we are willing to step out of that familiar place and ask harder questions. To make a conscious decision to step into our Learning Zone. Why do I feel this way? What might this reveal about me? How can I use this experience to become a more compassionate and loving person?
I can tell you from personal experience, it is obvious when I am in the Learning Zone because it is decidedly uncomfortable.
When I get hooked, it is so much easier, and safer, to assign blame, to attribute motivations. To believe that I have even the slightest understanding of what is in the heart of someone else. I saw their behavior. I know how it made me feel. Of course I know their intent.
But the truth is, I don’t know that any more than they know it about me. Just as most of us are careful to protect ourselves from physical harm, we protect ourselves from the risk of emotional harm.
I can tell you from my own life, I am far more likely to suffer a broken bone than a broken heart. I believe it is a very human condition to protect our fragile hearts. As a result, we tend to let the world see what we believe it should see. And sometimes that backfires.
How unfortunate. How can I help them see how wrong they are?
If there is one takeaway from Pema’s book that keeps bouncing around in my head, it is this:
I don’t know what is true in the heart of someone else. And more importantly, I don’t have to know.
The challenge for me is to learn to sit with the discomfort of not knowing. To accept the things I cannot control. And to always strive to respond from a place of compassion.
And that isn’t something I can learn to do sitting in my Comfort Zone.