the way i want to believe i am v. the way i actually am
This morning I cut into a beautiful, ripe peach and suddenly I was taken back to when I was four years old, eating a peach, and so scared of the pit inside it.
Likely I was scared of the peach pit because my mom had warned me that it was poisonous and could hurt me. But maybe it was because of how gross-looking the fruit just around the pit is -- a little too like flesh and blood in both color and texture for my taste. Or maybe the reason it freaked me out was that there wasn't a hard line between what was good to eat, and what was not good to eat. What if the stuff right around the pit was poison, too? How was I supposed to know that I wasn't getting too close to something dangerous?
I don't mean to take peaches into a realm of psychoanalysis where they do not belong. And for the record I would like to just say that I know peaches are not dangerous, or scary. But...just hang with me for another second. Because today when I cut into the peach, that lack of boundary between the end of the peach and the beginning of the pit sort of freaked me out anew. It got me thinking that as much as l like to think that I can take things in stride, and just go with the flow, I actually have a strong preference for clear parameters, rule-following, and knowing what to expect.
I don't have anything particularly transcendent to derive from this. Just taking this chance to observe how much I want to think of myself one way, and how discordant my true nature can actually be sometimes. I am (I think?) at a stage in life where I am coming to terms with who I actually am...not who I think I am, want to be, or think I should become. Just me, in my habits, in my thoughts, my patterns + proclivities. It is a telling revelation, at times. It forces me to realize that the things that I say that I love, are not always the things that I love. The things that I do, are not always the things I would tell you a person's time is best spent doing.
It is a mirror. One I might prefer to avert my eyes from. But is it better to look away, preserving my comfort, pride, vanity, at the very steep expense of my character?
I'm thinking it really isn't.