LIE TO ME (I HAVE TO EARN ACCEPTANCE)

This is another in the series of lies that I tell myself.  

I assume I will eventually get bored of talking about them but so far...

I'm still happily dumping my junk out in yard sale fashion for anyone to see.

Hopefully you're finding insights too or

at least comfort in the fact that you're not the only one

who struggles with some of these.

Here's today's lie:  I have to earn acceptance.

Not surprisingly, I'm going to illustrate this lie using food.
I have very few memories of eating at restaurants
before I started working in them at age 14.

When I was growing up,

dinner away from home was always a kind of a tribal event.
We didn't go to one of our parent's friends' house
to have a carefully curated meal where everyone gathered around a table.
We descended en masse like a loud and chaotic pack.
I can remember going to church cover dish dinners,
a relative's house or assorted community centers.
Our family gatherings were always informal. 

That meant everyone brought what they had,

or didn't bring anything AT ALL,

according to some mysterious family organization I never understood.
All this is to say that I did not know what is normal for being a guest
at someone's house for dinner.

Luckily, I had a TV shows!
 I learned by watching sitcoms that it is customary to 

bring something when invited to dinner at someone's house.

According to sitcoms, a good guest never arrives empty handed.

They have flowers or wine.

Or they offer to bring a dish or dessert.

One or the other.

Right?
It's possible that this recommendation doesn't exist
and that you are not required to bring something.
I just want you to know I got it from somewhere.
Moonlighting, The Cosby Show, Golden Girls,  Murder She Wrote.
Those are my sources and I'm sticking to them.

I internalized the lesson that guests bring gifts and

 in true over-achiever fashion....

took it to a whole different level.

A few years ago, if you had invited me to your house 

I would have shown up with a bottle of wine, 

a homemade edible gift and 

either a side-dish or an appetizer.

Probably an arrangement of flowers from my yard 

and/or a plant that I just happened to have lying around.

In a pot.

With an intricate ribbon tied around it.

One time I showed up for a spur of the moment 

get together at a friend's house

with two entire bags of groceries.

I brought a simple spread of expensive cheese, 

assorted crackers,

 charcuterie, 

fruit, 

and artisanal chocolate bars.

And beer.

And wine.

Just in case.

I want to pause here and remind you.....

IT WASN'T MY PARTY!

I can still remember how my friend pulled me aside and said...

I feel like you're saying my food isn't good enough.

No no!  That's not it! I said.

My kids are just picky and they eat so much 

and I just want to make sure we didn't eat you out of house and home.

(At your on house, at the party you decided to host.)

What is the proper emoji for this situation?  

It's got to be something stronger than face palm.

So I wasn't the best guest.  

What about if I were the host?

How did that play out?

Well, if I invited you to my house,

you were going to get one of the best meals of your entire life.

I would spend a lot of time 

planning and prepping,

shopping and chopping, 

and imagining how each course would fit together.

Evaluating the textures and the flavors-

are they layered enough?

Will every guest be satiated?

Will every guest have choice and options?

Will the piney taste of the carrots pair better with lamb or with duck?

Better make both.

Will the kiddos all enjoy their dye-free, hand cut chicken nuggets?

Better make four-cheese pasta as a back up.

Chocolate tart with ginger crust might be too specific a palate...

I should definitely make a layered fruit confection for the people

 who just don't like chocolate.

I got very very good at cooking as if I were a 4 star restaurant.

You were not my guest....you were my customer.

If you ate at my house,

I literally overwhelmed you with the food.

No matter how many courses or options I served,

I always worried that I would run out of food, 

that someone wouldn't like what I served, 

that my customers would give me bad reviews 
and never come back.


This attitude was exhausting
but you could pry it from my cold dead hands.

I told people that I loved to cook-

that it was my favorite creative outlet.

That I got joy from the experience.

That was a lie too.

What I was doing was hustling.

Taking the universal need to eat-

and turning it into a drug.

Cooking became a way to check out so I wouldn't 

have to sit with my own feelings.

Of inadequacy.

Of loss.

Of discomfort and confusion.

It also allowed me to drink an awful lot of wine.

Cooking for people was a wrapper that could contain lots of seemingly innocuous behavior that was becoming increasingly toxic for me.

I would stand in the kitchen

creating incredible food

for people who just wanted to talk and laugh.

I couldn't handle the connection or the vulnerability
inherent in showing up without these crutches.

Back to the original lie in this post:

I was fairly convinced in my subconscious that I was worthless.

That the only reason you invited me over

or that you responded to my invitation

was because of what I could do for you.

I was hell bent on earning my place.

This was OF COURSE not allowed to be 

present in my conscious thought.

That would never do.

I was successful!

I was independent!

I was fronting hard and nothing was going to make me see this lie-

nothing short of everything falling apart.

I have so much compassion for the young woman I was.

Trying so hard to prove that she was talented at 

one of the many household chores she never learned to do.

I may not be a good housekeeper but I can whip up 

pork tacos and guacamole that will transport you!

I may not be able to (care about how to) fold a fitted sheet 

but there's not a mom around who can make a better nicoise salad.

You might not think I acted or looked normal,

but if you invited me over, you'd feel better after I left.

Nothing to see here people-please watch the flashy pretty things

 as I exit stage right.

I'm using hospitality as the frame for this lie but

it was pervasive and persistent through every other aspect of my life.

That's the thing-if you can see it in one area,

it is for sure living well in all the others.
I did not believe that I belonged
in any of the arenas I was playing in.
Not work, not motherhood, not as a sister or a daughter, 
not in my creative endeavors.
I was using all my gifts and energy
to win an award that does not exist.

Sigh.

As sad as this lie makes me,

I am happy to report that if you invite me over now-

I'm likely to show up with just myself.

I'll ask if you need me to bring anything.

If you say no, then nothing is what I'll bring.

I'm also telling you that if you're invited to my house....

you'll get whatever I'm cooking for my family for the week.

No special things made just for you in case you don't like what I have.

You are welcome to bring whatever helps you feel comfortable.

Or you can eat what I make.

Or we can just sit and talk and that is the best of the best anyway.

I'm not saying it is easy to do this new behavior-

I still have serious moments of anxiety about showing up as I am.

But if I can't show up as just me, then why am I showing up at all?

I am learning to trust the truth that I don't have to earn my place.

My worth is not measured by the gifts I bring to the situation.

My place is already 100% secured.