Sometimes you come across a person who pushes your buttons and makes you reconsider your position on murdering people {I’m anti-murdering people generally, FYI}. This person pushing your buttons ruffles your feathers, fires you up, makes you want to scream. And maybe I want to. Maybe I think that the best way to get through to them is to do that. Treat like with like. Match them with rudeness. Match them with temper, and unreasonable shouted demands.

I think they call it, getting on their level.

Except that their level isn’t somewhere that you want to be. Their level is a place that makes you unhappy with yourself. It costs you your word in the matter of who you are. You see, for people, I like to contribute joy, openness and love. They can count on me for that. They can walk up to me on the street, call me on the phone or knock on my front door and count on me to BE that.

But not on THEIR level.

Their level costs me all my joy.
And costs me all my love.
And costs me all my openness.
And costs me ALL I have to contribute.
And it’s not a cost I am willing to pay.
Not any more.

I’ve remembered who I am. I remember what I am committed to being. And your level is not it. It will never be it. And so your anger, your demands, your harsh words, they go past me. Who I am is who I say I am. Who you can count on me to be, and I won’t be you. From me, you’ll only get contribution, joy, openness and love.

And maybe a kick in the junk.

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