Foul Beliefs We Carry With Us
I had a conversation with the wife of one of my patients recently, I will call her Claire. While I was visiting with her husband, she said she’d be in the living room going through their belongings, papers and “things”. She said to me, “Why DO we hold onto so many things? All of these papers…” She had found a two-sided handwritten letter on yellow lined paper, that if I had to guess, was about 12 pages. It was a letter she had written to her grandchildren. She said, “Hardly any grandchildren really know how their grandparents grew up and were raised. I spent the time to write to each one of mine, and also my daughters, to tell them about my life.” I thought, “What a beautiful gift”.
After my visit with her husband, I sat with her to check in and answer questions she may have about his decline. We brought up the fact that he had really lost his appetite; a very normal and expected part of the dying process. She was doing her best to continue to prepare him meals, a thankless job, in light of the fact that he was no longer taking more than a bite or two at a time. In our conversation about eating she said that she passionately disliked cooking. “Oh, I just hate it” she said. “I wish that meals just appeared in the refrigerator, I could take them out, and they’d be heated up and ready to serve.” She then added, “I’m willing to bet that if any woman about to be married had any idea that she’d be responsible for making three meals a day for the next 75 years, she’d say ‘Forget it!’ and would walk away.” It made me very curious about what else she had learned in her young years that she had written down for her grandchildren.
She and her husband were in their 80’s. I suppose back when she first got married, it was the expectation that as a woman, making 1,094 meals a year was her “duty”. (I did the math; thats 3 meals a day times 365 days minus one meal where maybe, if she was lucky, she didn’t have to cook dinner on her birthday) And yet now, 80+ years later, she still carries that belief with her. Did that letter unveil any insight as to why/where she had developed that belief? And do her daughters and granddaughters think that all that cooking is in any way still an expectation? It all made me think. What was I brought up to believe? And does that belief serve me now?
These two questions have seemingly been asked about almost everything in my life over the last few years. The weight of every question is obviously not the same. Like, “Do you have to serve a different meat every night or can you actually have chicken two times in one week?” probably does’t hold the same weight as “Should I stay in a relationship that leaves me empty and crying myself to sleep just because I made a commitment?". Some things just stay the way they are because there is no real reason to change or maybe we don’t want to deal with the fallout because it isn’t worth the fight. As parents, professionals, and adults, we pick our battles.
My mom was, and still is, a great cook. As a young girl I recall that she posted a “menu” for the week that was written out on a piece of paper and placed on the cork board; each night was different from Sunday through the following Saturday. I liked the variety and recall being disappointed when it was a leftover night because there wasn’t something new and fresh being served to us. (I never considered that my mom needed a night off!) The high standards she set were a benchmark that I brought into young adulthood and then when I began raising my own family. Somewhere in those years, likely on a night where I just didn’t want to cook, I realized how much I actually LIKED leftovers! But my family did not. So I continued the tradition kept up with the high standards (that no one but I put on myself) out of love and so as not to upset the troops.
As much as I love to cook, this self-inflicted expectation for meals did not come with any latitude or wiggle room in a busy life with three active young children and, it really didn’t serve me. I basically created and served a new meal… Every. Damn. Night. So for me, a night of leftovers (a.k.a.: “tin foil surprise”) was like a vacation… a bonus night off! (OK Mom, I understand now) Fewer dishes, less wait time and still a delicious meal! (could it be possible that things actually taste BETTER the second night?) And really, what did I think would happen if I served chicken two nights in one week, or more scandalously, in a row? (Cue the over-exaggerated gasping noise.) Would it result in mutiny? Would I experience a walk out? Would I find my kids and ex-husband walking around the kitchen table with handcrafted picket signs that had pictures of chickens in a red circle with a slash across it that said, “We already had chicken this week”? Not likely. So, why didn’t I stand up for myself to get a break and establish one night as Tin Foil Surprise Night with the following announcement: “HERE YE, HERE YE! Beginning this day in the year of our Lord 1999 and continuing henceforth, Thursday nights will be affectionately referred to as “Tin Foil Surprise Night”…and, fair warning, there is a chance it might be chicken…yes, again”? I didn’t do that because, well, one, my kids hated it when I talked like that and two, it was just easier to stick with what I had always done than change things and deal with the fallout, whining and judgement for being one of those unscrupulous multiple-chicken-night mothers. At the end of the day, I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.
Ridiculous right? It seems so now, looking back, but then, the struggle was real. Is it real for you?
How many things in your life have you not changed because of the fear of fallout, pushback or judgement? What no longer serves you yet you hold onto anyway? Do you work at a job for 8+ hours a day 5 days a week because that was what was demonstrated to you as the way to be successful? Does every job HAVE to be 9-5? What would happen if you proposed different hours? (Who exactly made up the whole 9-5 thing and is s/he the boss of you?) I KNOW that my most productive hours are the afternoons and evenings. I worked the 3-11 shift as a nurse and it was perfect for me. So, frankly, going to a corporate job and having to work “regular corporate hours” made me crabby. And I’m sure, ultimately, less productive.
Obviously, there’s a fine line between honoring your true self and abandoning your duties.
I’m not promoting that you only think about your own needs or saying that it’s time to upset the apple cart and start demanding unreasonable changes; jobs have to be done efficiently and we all make concessions and try to play nice in the sandbox and make schedules work. What I AM saying is, life is short. So without judgement, (which is challenging) as an outsider looking in, observe the things that make you uneasy, grouchy or irritable and ask yourself why. Why are you doing things the way you are doing them? If you could change things and do things your way, how would you do it/what would you do? And then ask, without assigning a “right or wrong” label, what is stopping you from making those changes? (I.e.: Are you doing something because it is what your parents did and therefore it is what you have always done? If so, it’s not right or wrong, it just “is”.) Is it because change is hard, unfamiliar and uncomfortable? Or the fear of upsetting your partner because you’ve always been complacent and are now suddenly speaking up? Is it because you don’t want to be judged for making waves and suggesting change? Is it that you are afraid it might actually work?
In my life now, I still love to cook; but not every night. I do the grocery shopping and work out plans with Frank (my partner) and cook when my schedule allows. But when I work late or simply don’t have the motivation, he cooks. (and I’m fortunate he is a great cook!) I no longer feel obligated to make something fabulous every meal (It comes naturally! 😂) OR that it is my responsibility to be sure we are fed. We are both adults who have had to eat to survive so it works out that one of us, or on many nights, both of us cook. Or one cooks the other cleans… Claire told me to hang on to him …with both hands… which I am doing already!
We all have the power to live a joyful life. The process starts with identifying the things that bring you joy, and conversely, the things that get in the way of obtaining that joy. Then, ask questions from a place of non-judgement and be willing to challenge what is holding you back. Have the courage to make small subtle changes while simultaneously giving yourself credit for every step you take. Honor your true self as you emerge.
Give gratitude and regard with great respect that which brings you joy. Nurture it with positive intentions. Empower yourself by honoring your mornings to yourself and start your day at 10:30 am (I highly recommend it!), declare every Friday “Tin foil surprise Night” or at the very least, give yourself the night off from cooking on your birthday…in honor of your mother, grandmother or Claire.