The Lunchbox Blog

As I pulled up to the grocery store last week, I heard a discussion on the radio about lunchboxes. They played the clip from My Big Fat Greek Wedding where the main character remembers her Elementary school lunches and the way she felt as the American girls at her table put their noses up at her lunch and one said, “Mousscaca?” and laughed.

The NPR discussion I heard was saying how common this experience has been for people from other cultures and talking about how many female comedians have mentioned a similar experience, often with a sense of shame.  One mentioned a dried fish lunch, another a shredded pork sandwich, both of which looked strange next to the typical American lunch the kids at their tables had, and filled them with shame. Shame wasn’t the first thing I would have thought of.

But as I listened to this, I remembered a similar experience I had in Elementary school. It wasn’t a cultural thing for me, from what I remember, though I’m not a white-bread American either, and my family wasn’t typical. What I remember is always opening my lunch to find my thermos had leaked all over and my sandwich was soggy. And some cut-up pieces of green pepper that were kind of icky now too. The kids at my table had nice, yummy-looking lunches and mine looked gross. It was disappointing and there was a sense of shame that my lunch could never be tidy and appetizing like the others'.

While it wasn't necessarily the way I felt then in those cafeteria moments, today I would liken this to the comparisonitis I sometimes get, or what Christine Arylo would call an attack of my inner Comparison Queen. Looking around and seeing the ways others have a better situation and feeling shame around that, or inferior. Like why haven't I done that, or accomplished this or gotten there?

That scene in the movie is more about fitting in, which I would say isn't so far off from comparison, because although we may not often think of it that way, we are likely comparing ourselves with those we perceive as having more of an ideal situation in the area we feel we are lacking. And if we weren't lacking in that area, we would fit in better. With some societal idea of what we should be. I say we because I have felt this way often. It is something I'm continually working on.

While it is normal and natural to want to feel we belong, because in fact it is part of how we were wired in our evolution (I love the way this is discussed in Amelia and Emily Nagosky's recent book, Burnout!) fitting in often means we are rejecting parts of ourselves that we feel don't live up to the standards of the ideal, whatever those are.  We don't think about what it took for those other people to get to what we think is ideal, and how it might not be an experience we'd want to have.  Comparisonitis also involves rejecting a part of ourselves in favor of what we think we "should" be. And painful thoughts.

When I get stuck in those painful thoughts, I forget to question where those ideals came from, and whether they really work for me.

Do we really want to be like everybody else? It might not even be everybody else, but simply certain people. People we greatly admire but feel inferior to.  People we envy. But instead of wanting to be like those other people, why don't we celebrate what's really great about ourselves? We all have unique talents that nobody else has. They might even be things we think are so obvious that we'd never consider them talents. But nevertheless, they are superpowers that make us unique and special. When we get caught up in things like comparison, we forget about all that. We forget we have qualities that they may in fact envy.

Comparison is also a habit that comes from being steeped in a culture of lack. In a culture of lack, there isn't enough room for us all to shine. We all have to compete, and look for ways other people are better so we can be better. We always have to be bigger, better, faster and have more money, and we can't just be.

But we also each have our own journey that can only be ours. And this journey is often where some of our gifts come from. It gives us a perspective no one else has. Would we really want to trade it for someone else's?

Would we really rather have white bread sandwiches than Moussaka? I know I'd prefer the Moussaka, as long as it's vegetarian (in my case.)

On a different note- back to my elementary school days... I have happy memories of my dad often playing jokes by putting the can-opener or garlic masher in my lunch box. Humor was one of his gifts.