old lessons

I refuse to learn certain things, and I wish I knew why.

Too much red wine hurts my head in the morning. (The measuring stick for too much is getting shorter and shorter as I get older, but I haven’t learned that all the way, either.)

Cheese hurts my stomach and so does corn, but I keep eating one of them because it’s my favorite food group. Why don’t I shift my thinking away from that mindset? If I tell myself it’s an allergy and not an intolerance, will I be kinder to my future self instead of indulging my present self? I haven’t managed to find that kindness yet.

A certain pizza place is a major favorite of the boys, and each time I eat it, I feel my digestive system screaming in protest. (It’s not just the cheese, but the cheese doesn’t help, obviously.) Each time I say I won’t eat it again, but I get hungry and have a slice or two and regret it close to immediately.

Staying up late doesn’t bother me the day after my long night, but it absolutely does the day after that.

I could unthread more of these from the tapestry of things I know but ignore for unknown reasons, but the point of this line of thinking wasn’t to eke out confession after confession but to look at why I don’t allow myself to learn these lessons enough to feel better — in my body, in my digestion, in my brain.

I mean it when I say I’m not sure why certain things just won’t stick. I’m not sure if it’s laziness or stubbornness or a delusion that maybe this time things won’t go the same way they did the countless times before. (Surprise. We ate pizza tonight. We’re all tired after spending the holiday away from home, and I didn’t feel like cooking. I ordered from the offending pizza place because it’s Ryan’s favorite, and shockingly, my stomach is already protesting. My stomach does not care that ordering pizza made my life a little easier.)

Maybe writing these things out, seeing them in black and white, will help me make better decisions the next time I’m poised to make a bad one. I haven’t learned these lessons yet, but I hope one day I might.