toast and peanut butter.

My goal in writing this blog is to process and heal by sharing my story, with the hopes of helping others along the way. Sometimes writing down memories is difficult. When I write, there is a part of me that has to walk back into the time the events happened, unknowingly welcoming past feelings and emotions and having to deal with the repercussions of such. There is also a sense of hesitation. My intention is to share what I have learned through my experiences and how they have shaped who I am. It is not to point fingers, spread blame or paint someone as the bad guy.

So, with that, I write.

When I was in high school, I was usually up before the rest of the house was awake and moving. I did the usual morning routine; shower, get dressed, do my hair and make up, pack my bag, and make breakfast all before I heard the familiar horn of my friend’s car, a reminder she was there to pick me up for the school day.

Coming home one day, I was confronted with why I didn’t eat breakfast that morning. But I had, I had eaten a piece of peanut butter toast before school. My mom looked at me with disapproval, and stated I must not have because she couldn’t find a dirty knife or plate and the toaster wasn’t hot when she had gotten up after I left for school.

I was frustrated. I explained how I had used a paper towel as my plate, I had put the knife in the dishwasher and the toaster really doesn’t stay warm for that long after using it. Why was I having to try and prove myself over something so minuscule as breakfast?

This would happen more than once. The lack of evidence of my morning nutrition left me with the back and forth of explaining the step by step of my actions of that morning.

The lack of trust my parents had in me was discouraging. I worked hard to build up their trust, but could never seem to earn it, and I continually found myself being questioned on the little things. 

It’s important to trust and to be trusted. Trust takes time and takes work, but it also takes faith. If my parents lacked the ability to trust me with what I ate for breakfast, then how could they trust me with the big things?

It’s hard for some of us to trust, I have definitely struggled with doing so throughout my life. What we have to remind ourselves is trust is a gradual process that takes time, effort and commitment; you have to start with the small stuff before you can trust with the big.

So take it a step at a time and trust the toast and peanut butter.

1 Comment

  1. I’ve had similar concerns with our daughter because she will often say she isn’t hungry if she’s annoyed about something in the morning (knowing that a good breakfast is one of my big concerns for her). After our nth argument, I decided that on the days I didn’t get up before she did, I’d just have to trust that she was telling me the truth and not confront her. Really, I had no way to tell, although I might suspect she didn’t eat. It wasn’t worth the rift in our relationship for the day. Most of the time, I’m up before/at the same time she is, so that solves the problem.

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