Sunday, August 2, 2015

I Will Love You With All My Heart

I am a picky eater. I always have been. It took me a long time to get over the issues I have with texture, my main reason for disliking food, taste is secondary. I don't hate food, nor do I have an unhealthy relationship with it, but there are certain foods I will not eat. Growing up, my father would make certain meals. There were certain things I would not eat, meat was one of them. It was not a moral choice. I was not a vegetarian. I couldn't get past the issues I had with texture. My father would make beef stew, one of my favorite things to eat, but in order to get me to eat it, he'd have to pick out all of the pieces of meat. I loved the vegetables, the barley, and the flavor the beef provided; the compromise was an easy one to make. It's not hard to pick out a few cubes of beef. It took me awhile, but I grew out of my dislike of eating meat. I still have issues with texture, but now it's a regular staple in my diet. I don't eat meat every day, but I do eat it.

I don't like strawberries because they have seeds on them. Weird quirk? Probably.

I'm highly allergic to melon, it sucks, because I crave it. We tend to crave the things we are most allergic to because they contain the enzymes and other vital nutrients your body needs. This is something my allergist warned me about. When I eat melon, I become gluttonous. I will eat it until I break out in hives. I will eat it until I have a hard time breathing. I will eat it until my lips swell to the size of Angelina Jolie's. It sucks because I love the taste of melon, but I have no self-control when I'm around it.

In life, I'm an easy going, laid back person. I'm quiet. I rarely talk about myself. I'm observant. I'm a good listener. I don't often get upset. In relationships I rarely fight, unless pushed. If I fight back (yelling or crying), you know you've screwed up. I've been called indifferent. It's not that I'm indifferent, some battles are not worth fighting.

I don't often talk about my mother. She and I never had a great relationship. There was never that mother daughter bonding moment that made me feel like we were best friends. I felt she was incredibly selfish. She constantly lied to me. She constantly broke promises. I'd asked her once how she could have left her children. She had no answer outside of “Don't you understand?”. How is a teenager supposed to understand? I wouldn't have asked the question if I understood.

I went through years of sporadically seeing her.

Fourth of July, my favorite holiday, and she wanted to spend the evening shooting off fireworks. I was apprehensive, but she assured me she wanted to spend the entire evening hanging out with her children. At this point, I had already graduated high school; I was going to college and working full-time. We were open on the 4th - I had just gotten off work. I just walked in the door. She gave me a hug, and then told me she was leaving. I'd had it. I let her have it. I yelled at her. I told her exactly how I felt about her. As she was leaving, I told her I hated her and never wanted to see her again. She died the next day. Car accident. She hit the median, flipped her car, the seatbelt broke her neck. Alcohol was present in her bloodstream.

I don't regret fighting with her, or telling her how I felt. She needed to hear how her actions were affecting me, but she was still my mother, and her death left me with these unresolved feelings.

I think it's admirable to acknowledge one’s own weaknesses, it shows confidence. I tend to own my strengths, and I often talk about being positive, but rarely do I share my weaknesses. It's not a judgment thing. I am not afraid of how others will perceive me. I think that most people would rather know the good parts about my character, but we are all made up of strengths and weaknesses.