This post has been rattling around in my head for almost two weeks. The reason it’s rattling is that I’m still not sure of all the implications. I have found in the past that when I get it in writing, there are times when it all comes clear. Perhaps that will happen this time as well.
I was at a local diner to set up for a meeting. I ordered my meal so I could eat before the meeting started. When it got there, I realized it had been served on rye bread with caraway seeds and the fries were just barely cooked. I don’t like caraway seeds at all and I like my fries crispy. I sat down to eat it anyway because, hey, it’s what I ordered, right?
I took all the sandwich innards off the bread and took a bite and my throat closed and I felt the tears. My first thought was, “Really? What are all these tears about?” Then, after the reminder to be gentle with myself I asked what was wrong. It came clear as day. This isn’t what I want to eat. Then I took another bite. Because that’s what good girls do. They eat what’s in front of them. I got choked up again and a bit angry. Then I realized I didn’t WANT to eat the sandwich middle. I wanted the WHOLE thing AND I wanted well done fries, dammit! So I sat there in a conundrum. I literally sat there for two minutes working through what to do.
I had mis ordered. I normally ask if the bread has caraway and I didn’t specify how I wanted the fries. It came through loud and clear that I needed to re order and pay for another meal. I needed to do this for me. I needed to do this to take care of me. I needed to do this to show me I had value and what I wanted mattered. I needed to do this to strengthen the nurturing maternal mama I’m fostering. So, I did. I felt empowered. I felt like I’d shown the little girl she mattered and her opinion was valid and I showed her that she didn’t have to eat something she didn’t want or didn’t like.
There’s the ah ha in writing it. In my journey, I’ve uncovered that I often will eat something I don’t enjoy for many reasons; just because, it’s a special dish, it was made for me, it’s in front of me, I don’t want to make a fuss in a public place, I’m feeling something I don’t want to feel etc. This refusal to eat something I didn’t want to eat and re order and pay for a second dish gave validation to how I value myself and that I don’t have to eat what I don’t want. As I type it, it sounds so simple. For me, however, it hasn’t been. It feels like another link in the chain of bondage has been removed.