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Push the Button

10 Feb


We’re all a bunch of buttons and triggers, waiting to be pressed and pulled. It doesn’t always make sense. It doesn’t always mean anything. In fact, more often it doesn’t than it does. But buttons are buttons and triggers are triggers. And once in  a while – BAM.

One: The Divorce Lawyer

BD’s recently made quite a bit of money selling a company that he’d started a few years back. At our divorce meeting he insinuated that I wasn’t entitled to half of it because he’d started the company before we were married. BAM. Is he telling me that all the years of support I’ve provided, putting my career on hold to go abroad with him, washing his underwear, cooking the food he likes, cleaning up his mess after him, coaching him towards meetings, being understanding and considerate of all his needs, being his loving significant other, don’t count because TECHNICALLY we weren’t married yet? UNFAIR.

Two: The Rash

Baby’s been having some allergic reactions. Recently he got a bad rash, probably because I let him eat some soup that had a bit of cumin in it. And all of a sudden, a huge rash all over his face. BAM. Stupid stupid stupid. What kind of mother gives her baby cumin? I must have been nuts. BAD MOTHER.

Three: The Sandwich

Skating guy was over. We were sitting around, chatting and relaxing, when he had to go to work and asked me to make him a sandwich. Smearing avocado on whole wheat bread, slicing a tomato, adding a dash of salt. BAM. Perfect little wife making a perfect little sandwich for a man she has to mother. My marriage, all over again. No way. NEVER AGAIN.

We’re all a bunch of buttons, and triggers, waiting to be pressed and pulled. What do we do when they are? Is it possible NOT to shut down, fade away, crawl into a corner and cry? Is it possible for us to tell ourselves – damn, that hit a nerve, but we’re stronger than that, we’re not going to fall apart over a button, over a trigger?