Relationships

Relationships are hard.

When I was younger, I thought they would be easier. That if you loved something hard enough, it would love you back just the same. As I aged, I realized life and love aren’t quite like that. That first love of yours, where you give yourself completely, tends to be the one that starts off a life of hard lessons. What I used to think was a flexible concept that could be stretched, bent and tested was wrong. Love, especially that first love where you are full of ignorance and hope, breaks just as easily as it came.

In a way then, this post is to help you understand a little bit more about me and some of my own loves. It’s a way to convey to you why I hope you’re reading these posts in the first place. I’m not passionate about a whole lot these days. But I like to think I’m enthusiastic about food and traveling enough to write about it.

So let’s start with why I write.

I grew up watching a lot of No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain. I was immediately drawn to his poetry and edgy takes on life. Some of my friends wanted to be rock stars or action heroes when they grew up, but me? I wanted to be Anthony. In a way, I think that’s why I wanted to start a food and travel blog in the first place. A part of me longs that someone stumbles across some article I wrote and it changes the way they see things. Or that it helps them pull the trigger on paying for that ticket across the world. I wanted to share and be a part of your experience. To be your own No Reservations.

But I’m not Anthony Bourdain.

Writing for me is catharsis. When I write in my little guided journal or even papers for school I get a sense of accomplishment lacking from my day to day. People I’ve shared thoughts with usually praise me for what I put down and I selfishly eat it up. But this? This blog has already been the hardest part of writing for me. I’m starting to doubt what I write. I’m overthinking. I’m editing posts until ten drafts exist and I’ve lost my voice. I wanted it to appeal to you, reader. Maybe it’s ok that it doesn’t, though. I think it’s enough that you just give me a little bit of your time to read this and anything else I put out. We aren’t getting any of that time back, so I appreciate you sharing it with me.

The subjects of food and traveling can strike a very similar chord.

Food has always been a touchy subject for me. I’ve been a picky eater ever since I was a kid. I think there’s a feeling you get when you are trying out food for the sake of it – but you know you’ll hate it. You override that part of your brain and just shovel in what you can. Kind of like being forced to sit down at the dinner table until all the broccoli is gone. Food for the sake of food. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to write article about food that holds no meaning for me.

Like writing for the sake of writing, I just lose myself.

The other side of that coin for me though, is that constant state I’m in knowing that most of the foods I love are in fact killing me. That slow, painful and delicious death marching onward by the next sugar hit or my favorite spot for fried chicken brunch.

I hate pickles.

I think sushi all tastes the same.

This blog isn’t for everyone.

Then there’s that cultural element to food. Where people gather around and celebrate lives worth living. Happiness through shared meals and experiences that you get from traveling around and seeing what food can truly do for a lost soul or a family reconnecting. Who am I to say that food could ever be something as demeaning as just some calories on a label meant to keep me alive from one moment to the next?

But I’ve tried it all in my pursuit of feeling satisfied in myself. Hell, I try to stem the tide of dissatisfaction with my body half the time. Paleo, keto, intermittent fasting, high carb, low fat, sugar free, whole 30 and counting macros. I’ve tried it all. I’ve failed it all.

Food becomes anxiety.

Writing becomes a chore.

The things you love hold no obligation to love you back. Writing that proud article can stress you until you miss a week’s worth of sleep. Eating delicious food can slowly poison you.

The real kicker in all of it is that just because your loves are killing you, none of us ever go cold turkey. We can’t quit and the cycle continues. Pushing that stone up the hill only to have it roll over you and back down again. It becomes a part of you, those dark secrets you never want anyone to truly see and waiting to surface when no one else is looking. That constant struggle to stay afloat. They are the relationships you carry with you for the rest of your life.

And relationships are hard.