There’s a great feeling when you finally throw out something that is broken.
Recently, I took a look at the top shelf in my kitchen. Sitting up there since I moved in was my food processor. It has been broken for about three years. At some point, it ceased to have multiple speeds and only went into superfastohmygodwhatfreshhellisthis when I turned it on. It was out of its warranty period, but I thought, maybe, I could take it to a repair place and they could fix it. I mean, it had so many attachments, could potentially make my life easier and I had so many recipes I used to use it with! Just the memory of those perfectly sliced vegetables, that cheese grated in the blink of an eye, and meatloaf mixed in seconds was enough to convince me I couldn’t throw it away. Never mind that the last thing I tried to use it on turned into liquified mush and un-processed chunks and was completely inedible. Never mind that someone else had used it to pulp recycled paper and the blades were dulled beyond repair. Never mind that it just. Didn’t. Work. Never mind that I had found something else to do the same job (maybe not as well, but still serviceably and better in other ways).
So there I was, standing in my kitchen staring up at my food processor. And I thought of Boyfriend. Well, until recently, he was my boyfriend. We broke up. More to the point, I broke up with him. Yet I still wanted him in my life. But I didn’t really. I mean, I wanted the person I thought he was. But he was broken. He had hurt me very badly, and very severely damaged my trust to a point beyond repair. But I wanted to keep him on a shelf, until he somehow proved to me that he wasn’t broken. That he could be repaired. That he really was the person I thought he was, somewhere under the cowardice, the deceit, and the selfishness, there was someone who actually cared about me and who I could trust to be open with me. But then I thought, what could he do? Was there really anything that could fix things? And did I really want to put the effort into it, especially when every time I saw his face or a picture of his face, I was having panic attacks? When I had already lost over 10 lbs from the stress and anxiety of trying to work things out?
Was I ever going to take that stupid broken food processor to the repair place?
And so, I took it down off the shelf and chucked it into the skip, along with all the attachments.
Ex-boyfriend is still friends on FaceBook, but he’s no longer in my news feed and I don’t see us being friends in real-life.
And I sleep better now. And I’m eating again. And there is a place on my shelf for something better.