I have always respected Jam. But recently I went through a period where I didn’t like or respect a certain Jam. I hated it.
The Jam didn’t seem like it respected it’s role, or me, or my life, or what I wanted to do. I learned nothing about the flavor from this jam. The Jam has a job, and it wasn’t doing it. It wasn’t doing it at all, it didn’t taste good it tasted bad and sour. I expected more, I expected a change. I wanted to get the most of the jam, the flavor, the texture. I wanted it to be better, to learn something from the jam. But never.
So one day I decided to not care about it, to not respect it, to not put any work into it. I went to my kitchen to make my sandwich, and went unprepared. I didn’t make sure it was the right temperature, or spread evenly. I plopped it on.
I tried to care as little for the jam as it did for me. I tried to care for the jam like it didn’t do it’s job. To fight not caring with not caring. I felt invigorated, good, like screw you jam! You’re going to taste sour, well I am not going to spread you well! Big insult right?
It didn’t work, I caved and spread it and tried my best with it at the last moment. Because that’s not the type of person I am. I can’t be.
I can’t be someone who doesn’t care, even when others and the majority don’t. That’s not who I am. I can’t not care.
While I wish I could put less effort into the jam, which might result in less stress and upsetness. I can’t change who I am. I have to care about the jam, maybe not as much (which is my current struggle), but I have to.
It was an important lesson I learned about myself, who I am, and what I was not willing to do.
While I dislike the jam, I choose to care about it.