THAT'S YOUR BUTTON
Family vacations can be so beautiful, and so ugly. They are an exercise in self-awareness and patience. Last month, we loaded up the car for a five-day getaway to the Oregon coast. Predictably, the amount of gear being stuffed into the car made it appear that we were going for several weeks, possibly to a remote location where there were absolutely no amenities. We were ready for (almost) anything.
The beautiful parts of family vacations are easy to recount: gorgeous sandy beaches and sunshine, dazzling coastal hikes, tender moments of play and relaxation. The ugly parts are harder to admit. For starters, the incessant whining during the five-hour car ride. Are we there yet when can I watch my ipad she touched me he isn’t staying on his side of the car I’m hungry I’m thirsty my tummy hurts. The ugly parts require constant reminders to myself about why I’m on this family vacation. We need quality time together and some rest from work. Plus, constant reminders about my own frustrations. Take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Ask for help when you’ve had enough. It’s the perfect way to build awareness on how your buttons get pushed and how you respond.
During a coaching workshop several years ago, a trainer introduced the idea that when someone pushes one of your buttons, it was there already. You created that button. The person pushing it just activated it. If you hadn’t created that button, you wouldn’t be so bothered by whatever that person was doing. Case in point: the things that absolutely send me over the edge generally don’t bother my husband. My buttons are different than his because I’ve uniquely created mine.
For example, family hiking tends to send me into complete, five-alarm level trigger takeover. Hiking is something I grew up with, and I absolutely love it. The trails are a happy place for me. That is, I love it when my kids aren’t pushing my buttons while I do it. Regrettably, this tends to happen four out of every five family hikes. During the family vacation to the Oregon coast, we hiked the Cascade Head Trail, a beautiful hike that took us through a nature preserve and up onto the bluffs that offer 180-degree ocean views.
The button pushing started less than a mile in. How far do we have to go? Can we stop for lunch now? I’m hungry. I don’t want to hike. I just ignored it and picked up my pace. If they’re winded they can’t complain! At the top of the trail, there was a complex negotiation on where to picnic. I don’t like this spot, I want that spot. It’s too windy. I have to pee. You have to help me pee because it’s windy. I stoically ate my sandwich and pointed to a spot for them to relieve themselves. So much patience, right? Buttons under control. But on the way down, I became worn down. I took in the fresh air, commenting on the delicious smell of toasted pine needles. My son responded by making retching noises. (In these moments he reminds me of the little brother in the movie Sixteen Candles. Sofa city, sweetheart!) We got to the bottom of the trail and he randomly took off the new hat I’d bought him and threw it at me. That really did it. I’d had enough and said something ugly. I stomped back to the car and huffed it into the passenger seat.
On the drive back, and throughout the family vacation, I considered the buttons that my kids so expertly pushed. How and why did I make those buttons? The main reason was my own need to feel important. I feel that what matters to me should matter to my family. They should hold my passions in high regard and follow along with my desires. From that need came the triggers. Rather than just being mildly annoying, their whining, criticisms and hat throwing whipped me into an incredible lather. To me, their behavior said that what was important to me wasn’t important to them.
This kind of awareness building is so valuable, and also so irritating. Because when we know better, then we can do better. Becoming aware of the buttons I’ve created meant that I could reflect on them and try to recognize when they were being pushed. It meant that I could work to mitigate feeling triggered, rather than wallowing in self-pity at my kids’ poor hiking etiquette.
If you’re interested in becoming more aware of your buttons, just take a family vacation. Kidding. A little. There are many ways to build awareness around this and take control of the buttons that you’ve created. Here’s a few:
Think about which situations tend to trigger you. Is there a pattern to the triggers?
What is the root cause of those triggers? What inherent belief is behind it?
Try sitting with the awareness. You don’t have to judge it or do anything about it. Awareness can be enough.
If you feel compelled to do something about the button, try playing with your responses when it gets pushed. What’s an alternative response? How does it feel to do that instead
When you avoid getting triggered, recognize it. What contributed to that win? Managing our buttons is about progress, not perfection.
Are you ready to work on the buttons that you’ve created? Reach out to explore coaching with me.
