My impulses often take the form of cravings, which often manifest in my desire to eat. I want the sandy crunch of coarse sugar biting into a blueberry muffin, and the bitter coffee to wash it down with. I need a savory snack to pair with my electrical cord gummy candy, and I need tangy black vinegar to dip my pork dumplings in. I’m constantly negotiating the balance of these flavors in my system. And if I’m set loose in a grocery store at 5:30 pm and no list in Notes app hand, beware. I’ll walk out with icy blue Gatorade, artichoke dip, clementines in fishnets, nuggets shaped like dinosaurs.
I’ve always thought a lot about balance and fairness. A lot of probably stems from the childish craving for attention. Why doesn’t my best friend like me as much as she likes that other girl? I go home and write hateful things with purple pen in my diary. Now, I’m negotiating things like, Is it my turn to FaceTime? Should I initiate the hangout two times in a row? Sure, I don’t want to be taken advantage of. I don’t want to look like a desperate fool, begging for morsels. But at the same time, this concern with balance has me overlooking my better impulses. Because who really cares if you had to be the one to schedule dinner when you get to see someone you want to spend time with? My trepidations are forgotten in the wake of a good experience, time well spent.
My tendency to keep a ledger, partially out of resentment and partially out of self-protection, can keep me from opening myself up to variation. Every relationship has ebbs and flows, and if it’s a good one, usually it all comes out in the wash. Sometimes I’ll be the one taking more, and sometimes I’ll be the one giving. It sounds like common sense, but I have to remind myself that my role in my relationships is constantly changing, and I shouldn’t let my need to feel powerful and in control to keep me from moving with those rhythms.