Eating Potato Chips in a Well-Lit Room

We were both eating personal-sized bags of potato chips when he told me that he didn’t have a friend. Not even one friend.

How can that be? I asked him. We chewed while we talked and between words the chips crunched.

He looked off and his posture was resignation and sorrow. And he said

I have been told that I take all of the light and joy out of a room when I walk in. And then he looked at me. It looked like he had a stomach ache. The light was still on in the room we were in, so I told him,

You were told a mean and horrible lie.

I’m writing this for him.

-

When I finished my bag of chips, I was thinking about how we don’t ingest only food, we also take in each other’s words and ideas. We listen, we make sense of the words, we are affected, we change our minds, we come to our own conclusions, after all the data gathered, consciously and unconsciously.

When someone says something mean like:

you take all the light out of the room

it can be very convincing. These words can change how you view yourself, can cement your identity. You can internalize the lie.

When you internalize, you are bringing something external to you into the insides of you. That’s very intimate. Internalize is a verb that means:

to make (attitudes or behavior) part of one’s nature by learning or unconscious assimilation.

Internalize is similar to the word ingest, but it is not the same. For clarity, ingest means:

to take (food, drink, or another substance) into the body by swallowing it or absorbing it.

Ingestion is part of digestion. Like how the salt on the chips makes my tongue salivate. I chew, the chip crunches, the shape is sharp at first and then it becomes soft on my pallet and I swallow. The food or drink or other substance will come into you, but will not stay there. What’s ingested is processed and eventually expelled. I don’t know a lot but I know that much.

The distinction, in my mind, is that when words are internalized, they make a permanent home in your mind or belly. The permanence is a weight, like a pound of cold pennies.

-

Just now I was walking down the street and my friend Hannah called right as I was about to call her. We greeted each other by saying

Hey girlie what’s going on? Oh not much, the leaves are very good looking, and the clouds are so dramatic.

I’m glad you called, I told her, I wanted to ask you, why do you think it’s so much easier to internalize the mean things people say about us than the kind things?

Without pause she said (I wrote this down, it’s word for word) she said

My non-thinking brain says that negative thoughts have a consistency that is sticky whereas kind things are airy.

Yes! I shouted. Sticky, like constipating, like being constipated by lies forever.

-

How can you tell when someone is telling a lie to you about who you are? I think it’s simple, no one can tell you who you are. All these projected lies are judgments. And judgements are oversimplifications, attempts to synthesize patterns and behaviors into just a couple words. For example someone who has stolen is a thief, someone who has lied is a liar. In this case, someone told you that you extinguish light, with your sadness perhaps. You are, then, your actions. An extinguisher, and extinguishers don’t deserve friends. Because you believe that the world should be filled with light and joy, and you’ve been told that you extinguish those things. And you believed them. That the world would be better off without you. If I were to judge you, I’d call you a believer. Your negative beliefs about yourself make your identity so solid. You are filled, bottom to top, with heavy, indigestible things.

-

I’m wondering if I don’t really internalize the kind things people say because nothing is meant to be internalized. Maybe self identity is not meant to be permanent. The words that are spoken to me and about me are meant to be ingested and processed, not stuck. Identity is far too fluid, life is far too short. On the phone, Hannah said life is ephemeral and frenetic.

Yes yes! I shouted.

I internalize the mean things people say because the mean things are sticky. I feel the words stick in my stomach. I am ashamed of them. So I hide them. Deep within the most internal part of me. They are so heavy. I think that I become them. The words are a clog. Plaque built up in my heart. Keeps me frozen like a statue. Makes me think I don’t belong. The clog of words that I believe are so hideous that I isolate.

-

Lonesomeness is dangerous. It is a danger to self, to others.

I met you. We were eating potato chips. I thought I was afraid of you, but it turns out I’m afraid of the clog. Your false power, your pain, I’m starting to think, are results of what you’ve internalized.

Listen. Even after you walked in, the fluorescent light in this room stayed on. When someone told you that you take all the light out of the room, they were lying.

It’s ironic that you don’t include yourself in friendships because the implication of your isolation is that you want lightness, you want joy. You’ve just been told you can’t contribute those things. You are attempting to keep the room light and joyful by hiding away alone. You are functionally trying your best to do the very thing that others told you you couldn’t do. You are working towards lightness and joy with your absence. But let me tell you

If I was eating these chips alone, they wouldn’t taste as good. You eat faster than I do. We are so different. We are in the same room at the same time. You have said only kind things to me. The sorrow is stuck, like that time I ate a weird squash and had an intestinal blockage. I won’t go into details. You are laughing now because poop jokes are funny. When you laugh it is impossible for me not to laugh also.

-

What can we eat that won’t get stuck? Maybe some small potatoes. All those mean words, let’s call them small potatoes. Let’s say they are sliced up real thin, and fried in whatever type of vegetable oil is cheapest this year.

When you call something small potatoes, you are calling that thing insignificant. That mean thing so and so said? That’s nothing but small potatoes. I do not say this to invalidate the weight of the words caught inside you. I’m not brushing aside perhaps valid criticism of behavior. What I really mean is that potatoes are easier to digest than words. Transforming the words into something digestible instead of stagnant. Also, small potatoes taste good.

So we are eating potato chips together. The light is on in the room we are in. We are talking now about funny haircuts we’ve had. I would say, actually, that your smile is making the room brighter. But don’t let even these words get stuck in you. Let them pass through.

The things I’ve internalized are deep in my gut. They are so hidden that I can’t even figure out what they are. I’m breathing into my stomach now. My breath is caressing the secret, painful spots. Finding and processing these internal blockages is a long project. I write this for us. I believe that I won’t know inner peace until you do as well. We suffer individually until we succeed collectively.

-

Someone told me once that I’m the last optimist. No one can tell me who I am. I’m not an optimist, but I have my moments. When just looking into your eyes makes the day easier. Looking into your eyes made my day easier because you did this thing, I noticed. You found the pain embedded inside and with words you brought it out into this room. In this room we have our hands, our potato chips, tile floors, all lit by overhead light. And then we got all tangled in silly words about potatoes and haircuts and we laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. Thank you for eating lunch with me.