Rice and Vulnerability

Cooking Can Go Right or Wrong. That’s OK.

I ruined the rice. Just a simple pot of white rice. You’d think that I’d give myself some grace, but no. When I fail at something simple like this, my neuroses and self-hatred stage an uprising, a mental Maccabean Revolt, if you will. I think all sorts of self-undermining thoughts that reinforce my insecurities. Let the games of negative self-talk begin. 

There are thoughts such as this: at my age, both my parents were successful in their careers and could also provide for themselves. And they already had 3 kids, and a grandkid. Plus, they could actually cook well and adequately feed themselves. And me and my debt-laden, twice-in-grad-school, rapidly balding, pudgeball self? I couldn’t even make the white damned rice. 

Like this but worse

OK, here comes the positive self-talk and reframing as I’m working through those feelings. I have thoughts that recognize my journey as a learner, and how mistakes are perfectly acceptable. And hey, I can make pretty good scrambled eggs, right? With that reframing, I’m able to open up more now about my insecurities, with the hope that expressing some of these vulnerabilities can lead to greater connection with others.

In fact, that’s so much of what Brene Brown’s research is about. To gain full growth in relationships, to achieve that deep and lasting communion with each other, we need to open ourselves up to vulnerability. Indeed, it is easier said than done. 

Imagine me, a cis, white-presenting male, expressing my feelings like I did earlier in this essay to friends in middle and high school. In the early 2000s. You think that would have gone well in 2003?

In spring 2003 one of the hit songs was “Never Scared” by a rapper named Bone Crusher. The song featured Mr. Crusher, who repeated “I ain’t never scared” ad nauseum. I couldn’t relate much, because at that point in my life I was always scared. So much for 2003 me talking to my friends about my feelings. Hence my repeated impersonations of  Chili’s baby back ribs commercials in math class while Mr. Niles shuffled indifferently around the classroom as he was waiting for someone to answer his obscure algebra questions. (x= I am scared of algebra). 

Anyway. I fokatched the rice, but I know what went wrong. I added too much salt to the initial rice mixture, and I washed the rice at first even though it was packaged rice and thus didn’t require it. The result was a gummy, gloopy mess. I only ate a bit of it, thanks to the masking provided by Trader Joe’s trusty soyaki sauce. Unfortunately, my rice was so awful that I couldn’t even use the leftovers to fry it the next day. 

But I know what to do to make it better, because I’ve successfully made it before. The challenge here, like with so many things in life, is consistency. It’s the same thing with vulnerability, no matter how uncomfortable.