Not long ago, I had an interesting conversation with a friend I hadn’t seen in awhile. We’re not close, but we like each other a lot and every time we run into each other, we can’t stop talking. She recently went through a very contentious divorce. She has children and the divorce raged on and on. When I asked her how she held up during the proceedings that resulted in her getting full custody and the house, she said it wasn’t easy.  But, she told me followed the adage, don't hit the ball back. I was intrigued. I asked her more about this deceptively simple phrase.

“You have no idea how many times my ex-husband threw a fastball straight at my face,” she confided. I wondered if my friend wanted to impersonate steroid-king Barry Bonds when her ex hurled one of those fastballs towards her face. Surely she must have been tempted to whack the ball back. “I didn’t hit the ball back,” she said, proudly. She lowered her voice so her ex-husband standing nearby couldn’t hear us talking. “He’s the worst,” she said. I nodded supportively, but I didn’t say anything.

Reflecting on the phrase that helped her keep her cool and ultimately prevail in her nasty divorce, I wondered if I hit the ball back too often. I’m sure I do. I really want to embody this newly acquired self-help phrase and recast my urge to react when people say or do something that’s rude or outright mean. I’m perpetually in search of those things that bring me peace of mind. Could this phrase be it?

If I’m honest with myself, I know I don’t need to respond to catty comments from people I barely know. I should just nod and smile, then walk away without missing a beat. That’s unfeasible, to be sure. The impulse to respond is almost universal. I’m the queen of the “you’re not going to talk to me like that!” My shifting inner voice vacillates between respond and ignore. What I really need to become is the woman who is known for taking the high road, soothing my own frayed nerves in the process.

All that’s easier said then done when you’ve acquired a habit—or maybe have a personality trait-- that’s hard to break. Of course, there will always be people, whose motives vary, whose efforts to try to get everyone around them to react to their jabs are transparent. I refuse to sleepwalk through life like a doormat. Wait a minute. Meekness has never been my problem. What am I thinking? I want to lessen my willingness to engage in toxic, verbal combat with people, no matter how much they deserve it. The mostly petty types of things that cause me to react aren’t worth it.

A few months ago, my friends had to talk me out of hitting the ball back to another blogger. This vlogger, who, as my friend pointed out, videos herself since she can’t write, created an entire video skit mocking my private schools blog, calling it “tiny” and referring to me and my colleagues as “private school snobs.” In her video, she dressed up in a stuffy socialite outfit, wearing pearls and sipping tea. “Dahling,” she cooed, “Isn’t it fabulous our kids are privileged to attend the best private schools?’ Those poor, sad public school kids and their incompetent teachers, blah blah blah. (For the record, I’ve never worn pearls and I’ve never attended a private school myself, including college and graduate school…yes, I’m slightly defensive). In the spoof, she refused to name my blog. My first instinct was to post a hard-hitting response on my blog. After all, I’ve co-written a book and worked hard to build a loyal blog following. Even more importantly, I don’t criticize public schools. Then, friends suggested I let the incident go. I happen to know, through a mutual friend, that this mom had to move her kids from private school to public school because Bernie Madoff stole $5 million of her new husband’s money—that’s right, $5 million via a feeder fund he apparently had no idea had invested in Madoff’s scheme. Pregnant at the time of this terrible news, her family sold their $3 million house abruptly and began renting a much smaller home. She never mentioned any of this in her snarky skit about my blog.

Well, I didn’t swing for a home run.  I guess you could say I bunted. Taking my friends’ advice and, in the interest of civility, I sent the vlogger an email letting her know I had seen the skit, telling her that a local niche blog that’s less than 2 years old with more than 132,000 page views isn’t “tiny” and saying she was welcome to post my reply. She didn’t. That was a much milder version of an earlier email I’d drafted. I cringe when I think about the first email I drafted. This stuff is harder than I thought but hitting “click” on the mouse felt pretty good, I’ll admit.

There are a lot of confrontations I’d revisit if given the chance. I’d handle them with patience and humor, rather than hurt feelings or anger. Obviously, that won’t happen, so I’ll look forward to future opportunities to let things go. The bloggers who leave nasty anonymous comments on my blog? They will no longer get a response. That other mom who raises a perfectly arched eyebrow accusingly when she’s disapproving of a parenting decision I’ve made? My response will be just as disingenuous, but in a way that doesn’t allow the conversation continue. I’ll nod in agreement, assuming nobody will even notice my fakeness. These types of people rarely do, they’re too narcissistic. Authenticity, in situations like these isn’t necessary. What’s needed is a relentless commitment not to engage when someone pushes my buttons. If I really don’t want to talk to anyone, I’ll feign a sense of urgency and pick up the pace toward my destination. Of course, I don’t want to seem unfriendly, but if avoidance is my best option, it’s preferable to trivial unpleasantness.

Every year, there are a few potentially contentious matters I usually deal with on behalf of our family. This year, I’ve asked my husband to handle them because I don’t want to create any drama. I found myself planning and plotting a response involving one of these issues. It promised to be an opening for me to hit the ball over the fence, leaving hard feelings and tension in the aftermath. When the 80 MPH pitch came at me, I’d be ready. I’d swing hard, imagining I’d show the “adversaries” how I really feel. Upon further reflection, I see how silly it all is. Let it go. Pick your battles. Take the high road. These are all phrases I’ve heard a million times. They don’t resonate with me. For some unknown reason, this simple phrase, don’t hit the ball back hits home with me. And the irony is, I don’t even like sports.