I received this email from a friend, and I am sharing it with you with her permission. Enjoy!
This morning my husband and I were connecting at the breakfast table. During our conversation he said, ‘I don’t understand why you never make the same meatloaf twice. Once you perfect a dish why do you find it necessary to make it different the next time?”
This is not the first time I’ve heard his frustration regarding my cooking. My husband is a meat and potatoes kind of guy. I could literally give him his favorite meal over and over in the same week and he’d be happy. In the past when I’ve heard this complaint I’ve felt guilty that I was somehow wrong; somehow not a good cook or good wife because I’ve changed something he likes. His mother and cousin taught me to make several old Polish family recipes. The second time I made one of the recipes I changed the recipe slightly and he went crazy. “Why would you take a recipe that’s been in my family for a hundred years and change it the second time you make it?!!!!!!”
In the past when someone has been unhappy with me I accepted that in some ways I’m just flawed. Why can’t I just do what they want??? Something in me is broken.
Using NVC this morning (my ticket out of guilt and blame) I was able to self connect and find the answer to the question he has asked me 200 times since we’ve been married. I change recipes and lamp shades because I’m a creative person. I do it to avoid boredom. I change recipes and lampshades to make it fun and different. As I take my personal inventory I find one of my secret fears is boredom, sameness, lack of spontaneity, drudgery, the mundane, etc. As women we cook hundreds of thousand meals over our lifetime. By changing recipes I can stay interested in the cooking process. I look forward to trying a spice I haven’t used. Some of my experimenting has ended up in the garbage disposal, and there are times I am so pleased with my efforts I’m sure the Food Network needs to hear about my culinary skills. When I change a recipe or a lampshade I’m not doing it to make him crazy, or to waste money. Instead, I change the recipe to meet my need for creativity, newness, and excitement. Wow! THE BEAUTY OF THE NEED.
I also told him that I respect that he likes the same meatloaf over and over. I told him I would be willing to make the “same” meatloaf for him as a special request for his birthday or special occasions. Furthermore, I told him I would be willing to show him the recipe in the cookbook, and help him make the “same” meatloaf one time and then in the future when he has a taste for the “same’ meatloaf he can make it for us. Dead Silence………….I’m guessing he might not bring this subject up again but then I’m not counting on it. At least now when the subject comes up I won’t feel like a bad girl. I only have to connect to the beauty of my need and my world remains rosy.
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