Storyz: When Irritations Overwhelm----

Dana Dina counted herself as a pretty sweet-tempered girl. Her friends often complimented her ability to keep a cool head, even when others were exchanging heated words. “How do you keep from getting angry?” they’d ask, and Dana would just shrug, and smile.

There was one thing though—a tiny, miniscule pet peeve that drove Dana nuts. It was a small thing, meaningless and unimportant, but for some reason, she really hated it when someone confused her first and last name.

“It’s one letter!” she ranted to her friends, “One, tiny letter. Why can’t people be considerate enough to remember that my name is NOT Dina? Sometimes, I just want to scream at those insensitive jerks who don’t bother to have the common courtesy to---” That was when the phone usually clicked or her friends suddenly made excuses to leave.

Luckily, Dana lived in a small community, where everyone knew everyone, so few made the mistake of calling her by her last name. By seventh grade, it almost never happened, and Dana was able to laugh about it with her friends. “Was I really that bad?” she asked, rolling her eyes in mock horror, “I mean, it’s just a name!”

The irritation slowly became nothing more than a faded memory, though Dana still felt a prickle of annoyance every time she thought about it. All in all, though, it seemed as if previous pet peeve was gone for good.

Then, one morning, her new homeroom teacher—a young, nervous looking lady with a slight accent no one could identify—introduced herself to the class. Dana, who thought the woman looked nice, took the initiative to go up and introduce herself after class. The woman smiled, and Dana left sure of a good year.
Then, the teacher said it.
“Goodbye----Dina.”

Dana’s mouth clamped shut and her eyes narrowed. Forcing herself to calm down, she plastered a smile on her face. “Actually, it’s Dana.”

Her teacher beamed innocently, “That’s what I said, Dina.”
Dana realized then, that the woman’s slight accent was what was causing the slight mispronunciation. It wasn’t the poor lady’s fault.

That’s what she told herself the next morning, when her teacher greeted her with a cheerful, “Good morning, Dina.”
That’s what she told herself when her name was abused during attendance.
That’s what she told herself when her teacher asked her to close the window.
“It’s just one letter,” she told herself, “It shouldn’t matter.”

But, by the end of the week, she was so annoyed, it seemed as if her teacher took special time to accent the first syllable of her name. “Hello, Diiiii-na.”
“I’m so mad I want to punch her,” she finally admitted in her journal. “What am I going to do?”

***************
Have you ever had an itch? That tickling, uncomfortable feeling at the base of your throat, or in the middle of your back?
The Merriam-Webster dictionary describes an itch as: “an uneasy irritating sensation in the upper surface of the skin usually held to result from mild stimulation of pain receptors.”
It’s not as physically painful as a bruise or a cut, but for some reason, it’s ten times more annoying.
So are irritations.

My definition of an irritation is an emotional itch—a nagging, unsettled feeling that you just want to go away.
Irritations bring out the worst in people. After all, no one is immune to them, and they have the power to turn the most calm, rational person into a petulant child in seconds.
Itches—irritations—itches—irritations, they seem so trivial, and usually are.
So why do we continue to let them ruin our lives?

Maybe it’s because they’re so persistent.
Curing a bad habit is like pulling out rotten teeth, but once you’ve cured it, it’s cured.
With irritations, though, it’s like swatting one mosquito with the knowledge that, two minutes late, another one will be hovering in the exact same spot.
After a few dozen mosquitoes, (and irritations), we just want to give up and let the bugs suck our blood.

Irritations are sneaky. The warning signs for anger, greed, and pride are clear, and though we don’t always choose to, we know we’ve got to stop.
On the other hand, irritations are like bombs dropped from the sky. We don’t realize anything’s wrong until it explodes at our feet and suddenly that feeling makes us want to lash out at anyone within hearing distance.

Irritations are like leeches. They stick; stubbornly refusing to budge despite how hard we tug, getting fat while our emotions run wild.
We want them gone, but they refuse to go, and soon, we don’t care how we make ourselves feel better, as long as we do.

Always returning, hard to spot, and hard to get rid of. More and more, the threat reveals itself.
So how can we save ourselves from these itches?

We scratch them.

Seems simple, doesn’t it? It’s a lot harder than it sounds.
Unlike physical itches, emotional itches usually need two people to scratch them. Which involves asking for help, in a way that will induce the other person to want to help. Which involves being polite and kind. Which is the last thing we want to do.

During the last week, I was supremely irritated by my younger brother, E---. Everything he did, the way he sat, the way he hummed tunelessly and made up rhymes that didn’t make sense—it drove me completely insane. Despite all my efforts, I couldn’t scratch the itch. I needed help.
So, like a totally mature, composed big sister, I opened my mouth. “E---, would you please stop talking, fidgeting, scratching your feet, tilting your head, and blinking your eyes? Thank you.”

Well, at least, that was what I meant to say.
Instead, this came out.
“E---, stop, now. You’re being annoying.”

Dale Carneige once said that the only way to make a person do something was to make the person want to do it.
Oops.

Needless to say, he didn’t stop. Oh, my glare worked for about two minutes, but then he started up again, with renewed vigor.
And my irritation flared up again.

Too many times we’re so impatient to get rid of irritation that we forget that it takes another person’s cooperation to kill the leech. Just like you can’t physically force someone to scratch your back, you can’t physically force someone to soothe your irritations.
Remember, despite how annoying a person’s behavior may seem, and despite how much you believe that asking him/her to stop would be a favor to the greater good--- to them, you’re asking a favor.

And everyone knows that how a person asks a favor is sometimes more important than the favor itself.
The magic words you learned in Kindergarten are good weapons, and yet the last things you want employ. Too bad.
Grit your teeth, take a deep breath, and say them. “Please,” and then, “Thank you.”

Hopefully, this will lead to the stop of whatever caused the irritation in the first place.
But what if the source of irritation can’t be stopped?

Forget the Shield

It’s impossible to never be irritated. Unlike biting fingernails and tapping fingers, it’s not a conscious decision.
You and I don’t choose to be irritated, we just do. It’s a human emotion, or rather, a human flaw.
So is living an irritant free life too good to be true?

Yes, and no.

Everyone, everywhere, gets irritated, from the hermit in his cave to the billionaire in his mansion. That’s not something we can stop.
The feeling will remain, whether we like it or not. How we react to the feeling is a completely different matter.

I believe that, when I became a Christian, God sent his Holy Spirit to live inside me. Galatians 5:17 states, “For the sinful nature desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature. They are in conflict with each other, so that you do not do what you want.”

When I’m annoyed, I want to make myself feel better by lashing out, but, somewhere inside me, the Holy Spirit shakes his head.
It’s hard. Sometimes, it seems impossible. But it’s the right thing to do.

Whenever I get really irritated at something, I try to isolate myself—maybe not physically, but emotionally. And then, I pray.
God, please, please, please, please, please help me.

God is good.
I’ve lost track of the times that he’s helped remove my feelings of annoyance, anger, and frustration.

Of course, it’s a heated battle. On one hand, I know the right thing to do, but on the other hand, lashing out feels good.
As a teen girl with two siblings and a brilliant speaker/writer for a mom, I can testify that it’s not worth it.
I cannot count the number of times I’ve looked back and thought: if only I hadn’t said that, or, what was I thinking?

That small feeling of satisfaction won’t last. One way or another, it’ll turn into anger, frustration, and guilt.
I’ve lashed out and found myself in a full-blown argument two minutes later—over something as small as a tactless comment.
I’ve lashed out and found myself feeling isolated from my family for hours later—over something as meaningless as who got to pick the restaurant.
I’ve lashed out and felt like a complete jerk seconds later—over something as trivial as an accidental push.

The problem with irritations is that, if you don’t take care of them, they grow into something a lot uglier.
So forget the shield, and bring out the body armor.

Ignore that sarcastic comment, the urge to slam that door, or the burst of disrespect.
And if you lose the battle, as I have, so many times—apologize.

Our family spent the day at the mall today, and I couldn’t enjoy it, all because I let a little irritation get the best of me.
I’d just woken up and was feeling completely unenergetic. As I trudged out of the car and towards the mall, my mom casually reached over to straighten my shirt.
At the unexpected touch, I jerked away and snapped, “Stop it!”

We’re leaving for dinner now, three hours later, and I still feel guilty.
There will be times that you lose the battle, and lose it badly.

So do what I’m going to do.
Stand up, walk over, and give the person you hurt a hug.

Then, say those two magical words.
“I’m sorry.”

Irritations are a part of life.
But we, with God’s help, can learn to overcome them.
***************

Dana knew she was in trouble. If she didn’t master that annoyance ASAP, she’d never be able to get through the school year. As she stared at her lunch miserably, trying to block out the sound of the noisy cafeteria, she felt someone walk up behind her. Turning, she gave a reluctant smile as George Allen’s warm eyes met hers.

“I heard about you problem,” the tall boy said sympathetically, “Want to talk?”
Dana shrugged, but scooted over to make room. George grabbed a nearby chair and sat down. “So, the name thing’s really getting on your nerves, isn’t it?”
Dana nodded. “I try not to mind,” she said, tugging a strand of hair and wincing, “but it’s like, every time I make the decision to stop getting angry, she calls my name twice as much! It’s completely annoying, but I can’t get rid of the feeling!”
There was a pause, and Dana suddenly felt silly, complaining about such a small thing. “Never mind,” she said, not meeting George’s eyes, “It’s no big deal—”

“No, it’s not,” George agreed, and then grimaced, “But that’s probably not what you wanted to hear, is it.” It wasn’t a question.
Dana shook her head. They sat awkwardly, until George finally broke it. “Listen, Dana-- I know this is kind of weird, but have you tried praying about it?”
Dana shrugged. “Sometimes,” she said noncommittally, feeling uncomfortable.
George obviously sensed this, and he gave her an impulsive, one-armed hug. “Don’t worry, it’ll get better.” Someone called him then, and he stood to leave. Then, he stopped.
“Uh, Dana?”
“Yeah?”
“I know it’s kind of awkward, but I really think you should go to God with this. Try it.” With that, George Allen walked away.
Dana watched him go, a strange feeling in his chest. For some reason, George’s simple words really struck a nerve. Why hadn’t she prayed about her situation?

“God’s busy with world peace, he doesn’t have time for something this small,” she told herself, but then shook her head in disgust. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was those pathetic people who made excuses to keep from doing what they knew was right..
The cafeteria’s sounds faded as she closed her eyes and began pouring her heart out.
“God, I really need your help—”

For the next two weeks, whenever Dana felt that bubble of irritation, she mumbled a quick prayer. It didn’t always erase the irritation, but it helped her keep her temper under control. After a while, as time went by, the annoyance faded. Once in a while, it would flare, but Dana bit her lip, prayed, and fought courageously to keep a smile on her face.
She kept in touch with George, who became a close friend and confident as well as a source of steady encouragement.

A month passed.
A year.
A decade later, a soon-to-be Mrs. Dana Allen stood before the alter, her fiancé beaming at her, familiar brown eyes taking in the sight of her gorgeous gown and bright smile. The words, “I do,” were spoken quietly, but the love shone from his eyes as clearly as if he’d shouted the words.

The pastor looked at the bride, and opened his mouth.
Dana prepared herself to say the two words that would bind her forever to the man she loved.
And then--- the pastor spoke.
“Ms. Diiiiiiii-na, do you take Mr. George Allen as your lawfully wedded husband?”

For just a moment, Dana saw red.
And then, she looked into the face of the man before her, and saw the barely concealed grin that he was trying in vain to hide.
The irritation flowed away.
“I do.”