M e e s h

Overall, the presentation went well until we had a discussion about acknowledging the impacts of post-colonialism in Canada. A superior (two levels above me) piped up to say, “I don’t feel guilty.” Twice. Twice!

Of course this made things very awkward. Afterwards, an Indigenous colleague and I met with this superior privately to discuss the inappropriateness of their comment. They explained that they “completely understand how bad it was and is” for Indigenous peoples but that they weren’t convinced they were personally responsible. They didn’t send Indigenous people to residential schools, they weren’t racist, and they enjoy Aboriginal culture. My co-worker agreed that it was technically fair that this person didn’t feel responsible for something they didn’t do and just like that, it was all suddenly swept under the rug. A bygone.

Well, it still hasn’t sat right with me and I’ve been mulling over why. Yes, technically you didn’t do anything, but you’re also not doing anything except inciting others to agree and dangerously ponder, “Why should we feel guilty for something we didn’t do?” What a strange reaction from them it was, especially when no one was asked to feel guilty. 

And yes, it is harmful thinking. The fact is, this is the world you live in today and you are not here in this place as a result of lucky happenstance. Everything you are, WHO you are, your job, your home, every fucking thing is Point B, where Point A was cruel dispossession and cultural genocide.

Cody left for a fishing trip on Friday and won't be home until Tuesday. Whenever he's away, I don't eat much and when I do, it's like a cracker here and there. It's not physically hard to cook for one, but it’s difficult to find the right motivation (I’m just one person, what’s the point, etc.). And I’m starting to realize this is a self care issue.

Cooking wasn't always a passion, it started as a necessity. When I was still in school, my parents left for a month to attend a funeral in Vietnam. Shortly after their return, they began to separate. My mom moved out and my dad was always out with his girlfriend/now wife. For four years, I was my sister’s sole caretaker and this included learning how to cook for her.

Necessity evolved into hobby when I lived with my ex. I had a book called Cooking for Two and that was my bible at the time. When I lived on my own, I still cooked for my friends who lived next door. I guess I’ve never not cooked for others; it’s always been for others.

This week’s revelations:

I’ve accidentally turned “cooking for others” into a purpose.

When I am without that purpose, I am depressed.

I don’t cook for myself not only because it is foreign, but because I don’t have enough self-worth to see the point (and this applies to so many other things).

In a similar vein, my therapist gave me some homework a couple months ago: do something nice for yourself. I went home and eventually took a bath but my thinking process was thus, “I’m taking this bath for her (i.e., therapist) so that I can be a good student and complete the homework she assigned.”

When I told her this later, she said it sounded like there’s a border guard in my head who stops me from doing things for myself unless I trick him with sneaky negotiation tactics. 

“Well you see, this bath is actually not for me, it’s for my therapist.”

For anyone who negotiates with that voice in their head, isn’t it exhausting? Why do we do it...

This morning I ate well and I made myself a chai tea from scratch (that takes work! With a mortar and pestle and everything!). It felt luxurious, it was a good decision, and it was wholly for me.

Harrison Bergeron