Apple Jello and --Not Quite-- Veruca Salt

I know I set out not to be so painfully self aware in the future, but that doesn't mean I have to stay away from every deconstruction.

I've been doing some thinking in the past few weeks, trying not to judge my actions but to look for the reasons I did them. About my negative conducts and the memories behind them, and doing a little bit of rationalizing.

So what's been on my mind these last days:

I have a huge problem with telling people what I want. It happens with little things like 'what fabric softener do you want?', to which I instinctively reply "whichever you want". (And people, in my experience, always pick the worst one.) If pressed, it'll take me hours to make a decision; I always worry that I'll make a choice the other person won't like and I'll be held responsible.

This is an annoying flaw of mine, but I should mention that it doesn't happen when I'm alone; I generally know exactly what I want in most everything, but when I'm with someone else I usually become a limp noodle. There are exceptions, but mostly it's like this.

The problem becomes more evident when asked about major issues, like "what do you want to do with your life?"; I tend to respond these questions by displaying symptoms of acute asphyxiation.

I remember clearly how it started: I must have been no older than six and my mom asked what I wanted for dinner. I said I wanted toast. Then, and with no cushioning whatsoever, my father said that he never wanted me to ever say I wanted something again; I wasn't a baby anymore. From that day on, when asked what I wanted I was to ask what the other person wanted, and to go along with that.

And from that day on, every time I started a sentence with "I want" I was punished. Believe me, I dropped the phrase like it was hot.

(My father hasn't changed. Check out Today's Vignette:
Father and Daughter sit at the dinner table.
Daughter: "Would you like some jello? I made it yesterday."
Father: "What flavor is it?"
D: "Apple."
F: "Yuck! Why did you make apple? I don't like apple!"
D: [shrug] "Because I had a craving for jello yesterday and apple is my favorite."
F: "You should have asked your mother what flavor she wanted. You should have asked me what flavor I wanted. When will you learn it's not what you want that matters?"
Father goes on to coffee, Daughter goes on to exult at the very notion that she's not in a straitjacket yet. The End)

In time I guess it's become an habit, this incapacity to articulate the I-want. And I also think that in a certain way he was right; within some contexts, the I-want shouldn't be what matters. And maybe that's a lesson a six-year-old must learn.

However, now I also think that overall he was full of shit about the I-want, just another of those instances of him being an asshole to me and turning me into this fine example of character and integrity. Like the time he made me eat from the floor for three days, you'll eat like the dogs if you're not eating like people, ¡me cago en la leche! True story; I was seven or eight. I still have to figure out what flaw that left on my character.

But back to the point: He was, and still is, full of shit about that. He might not be interested in what I want, and I guess he's entitled to that, but I've decided I am plenty interested myself, and I want to find out what I want. Furthermore, other people might be interested and I now think it's likely that this incapacity of mine has led to many disasters. People wanted to know what I wanted and I couldn't tell, I couldn't even begin to think about it. It made me feel selfish. It still does. But I don't care anymore.

From now on, I'm making apple jello and saying "I want" as often as I can. I'm pretty sure I'm not turning into Veruca Salt and I think I'm allowed a little selfishness in this case. I need to think about it, because I don't dare to think about it, and that's one of things that's stopping me.

--God how I pour solemnity and East-Of-Edenness above. I tried to make it more jolly and couldn't. File this under I Had A Shitty Childhood Too, people.