French Fries

 

Yesterday I spent twenty minutes researching the best French fries. (By Google’s standards, Arby’s takes the win—I don’t know about you, but this one really threw me for a loop.)

I don’t normally eat fast food – I’d like to say it’s because I naturally favor healthier and fresher foods, but the reality is it probably has something to do with all that emotional scarring I got as a kid from the embarrassment of having my mom order McDonald’s Happy Meals ‘hold-the-meat’ style. (Growing up vegetarian in Mississippi in the early 90’s ain’t no small feat to overcome).

I knew that if I was going to face some childhood fears, those fries better be damn worth it. You see, I have this fear of being rejected or judged by every and anyone. My family. My friends. My co-workers. The woman handing me my fries through the drive-through window.

My fear of being judged or rejected stems from my own insecurities. And the lies and questions I tell and ask myself about my worth: “I’m not good enough.” “What’s wrong with me?” “Why does nothing ever work out the way I want it to?”  

The trouble with holding onto these beliefs, aside from the fact that it can be a barrier between my mouth and steaming, hot, salty French fries, is that when I hold onto negative thought patterns, I create resistance.

And when I create resistance, I block positive things from entering my life.

So the fear of judgement from the drive-through worker handing me my fries creates a resistant vibration that I send out into the world. The next thing I know, they’re handing me someone else’s order, I spill someone else’s coke all over myself and stain the white tee I’ve so boldly (thoughtlessly?) chosen for work, I see my ex’s father’s friend’s car look-a-like in the nearby gas station and all of a sudden I find myself drenched in empty calories, crying in the parking lot of a fast food joint, wondering why these damn fries aren’t doing their job of filling this void inside of me.

Things can derail quickly.

Here’s the thing. We have a choice in how we choose to proceed in moments like these. My gut reaction is to call in sick to work, drive home, crawl under the bed, put my phone on silent and binge some Friends. But Joey Tribbiani is not going to fix what’s bubbling underneath the surface of all this mess.

When I take a moment to breathe, I recognize there is power in feeling. The tempting thing is to numb. Numbing holds off the pain for a bit. But when I allow myself to feel, forgo the anesthesia, I get to grow.

There’s a reason we can only see the stars in the darkness. Why Rumi said, “The wound is the place where the light enters you.” Why caterpillars have to spend time alone in their cocoon before emerging as butterflies.

We need struggle to challenge us and build us up, we need the sun to disappear before we can wish on falling stars. We need space to feel, to transform.

When I feel, I feel deeply. When I feel, I sometimes think I won’t be able to handle it. I’m a runner. I run from pain. I try to escape by moving across the world, by throwing myself into a new project. I think that by running, I can leave all the emotions behind. But those emotions add weight to my shoes, and my running gets harder, and my muscles get tighter, my breathing narrower, my steps shorter.

I’ve been learning to slow down. I’ve kind of been forced to.

And in slowing down, I’m beginning to feel again.

I feel the weight of all the emotions I’ve pushed aside. Just as I know that training hard builds strength, I know challenging myself with the weight of these feelings will create growth. I take a deep breath, and as I exhale, I let go of all that is weighing me down: fear, grief, uncertainty, confusion, anxiety, anger, resentment, worry, helplessness, more fear.

I exhale these things out into the world and as I do, I feel the lightness of my body. I can run faster, but I choose not to run from things anymore. I can jump higher, but I keep my feet on the ground. I can breathe easier, and I do.

I breathe in what I know to be true in the midst of these feelings: that my worth comes from deep inside me, the place where my soul shakes hands with God. That when someone rejects me, it bears no weight on my own value and worthiness as a human who has and will continue to offer unconditional love. That when my heart feels like it may drop right out of my body, there is a force greater than me holding it up. There is a plan in place that is beyond my wildest dreams. My only job is to surrender, to let go of the need to fight and control, to give up the need to have things go my way.

Sometimes in our desire to fix, we lose sight of the simplest pleasures: singing off key with the windows rolled down, how the sun feels on our skin after a week of rain, thinly sliced potatoes deep fried and mass produced.

Give thanks for those things that fill you up, but know that you’re already whole, and no one (and I mean NO ONE) can give or take that away from you…

…Even the woman handing out French fries at the drive-through.