Have you ever had an amazing experience—and only realized it after it was all over?
I recently took my son out to dinner. He’s only 2 so this is not something we do often. He wanted to sit outside (yes!) so we sat on a beautiful deck overlooking the ocean and the harbor.
At the beginning, I was totally into the experience, enjoying the breeze, the ocean, and my son’s conversation. My son said he wanted pizza, so I ordered pizza for him and a salad and roast chicken with sautéed spinach for me. The pizza came. My son took one look and said, “I’m not going to eat that.”
All of a sudden I was in my head:
He’s not going to eat.
He needs to eat.
What if he doesn’t eat?
I could have been anywhere in the next ten minutes, because I certainly wasn’t enjoying any of the feelings, sights, smells, sounds, or tastes of my ocean-front dining experience with my beloved son.
I’d like to tell you that I woke up and realized that I was the one creating this experience (or lack of one). Most of the time, these days, I do realize I can choose my experience.
But my son’s eating (or lack thereof) seems to be a blind-spot for me.
In this case, I didn’t get out of my head until my dinner was served and my son started eating. Turns out he was in more of a roast chicken and pasta mood than a pizza mood.
Oh, good, I thought, he’s eating. My whole body relaxed and I tuned into my surroundings again.
That’s when I realized I had a choice: I felt better because my son started eating, but what if he hadn’t? That’s certainly happened—many times. And will happen many more times before his eating is beyond my control.
Wait—Is it under my control?
Nope.
Here’s what I can control: I can offer my son good, healthy food with plenty of choices.
Here’s what I can’t control: Whether or not he eats it.
So the problem is not my son’s food intake. The problem is my thoughts about my son’s food intake.
I gotta let it go.
Why? Because I want to enjoy my son, whether or not he eats as much as I want him to, whether or not he’s eaten well recently (in my opinion.)
When I used Byron Katie’s work to question my thoughts about my son’s food intake, I realized that whatever my son ate was exactly right.
Why? Because that’s what he ate. It’s in the past—I can’t change it.
What a relief.
Next time I start to worry about my son’s eating (that’ll be at his next meal), I’m really going to try questioning my thoughts.
When I question my thoughts, I come back to reality—the amazing experience of my here and now—and I can have that amazing experience no matter what my son eats.