在一个普通的家庭里，胡萝卜是饭桌上最常见也最让人头疼的存在。妈妈总是把胡萝卜切成整齐的小块，煮得软烂，然后夹到我碗里，说：“多吃点，对你身体好。”我总是皱着眉头，把胡萝卜推到碗边，心里想着：“谁会喜欢吃这种东西？”
Mother’sloveisoftenseenaspureandselfless,butsometimesitcanbecomedistorted,likeatwistedversionofitself.Mymom’sloveforcarrotswasnotjustaboutnutrition;itwasanobsession.Shebelievedthatcarrotscouldsolveanyproblemintheworld—healthissues,badgrades,evenheartbreak.Shewouldspendhoursresearchingthebenefitsofcarrots,readingarticles,watchingvideos,andjottingdownnotes.Toher,carrotsweretheultimatecure-all,andshewantedtomakesureIhadenoughofthemtobehealthyandsuccessfulinlife.
ButasIgrewolder,Ibegantonoticesomethingstrangeaboutherbehavior.EverytimeIdidn’tfinishmycarrots,shewouldlookatmewithamixtureofdisappointmentandworry.“You’renoteatingenough,”shewouldsay,hervoicetingedwithanxiety.“You’renottakingcareofyourself.”ItriedtoexplainthatIdidn’tlikethem,butshewouldn’tlisten.“You’llgrowtolovethem,”shepromised,asifitwereamatteroftime.
Oneday,Ihadenough.ItoldherfirmlythatIdidn’twantcarrotsanymore.“They’renotmyfavoritevegetable,”Isaid,tryingtobepolite.Butsheexploded,hervoicerisingwithanger.“Howcanyousaythat?Carrotsaregoodforyou!They’regoodforeveryone!You’rejustbeingstubborn!”
Iwasshocked.Ihadneverseenherthiswaybefore.Itwasasifthecarrotswerenotjustfoodtoher—theywereasymbolofherlove,hercare,andherauthorityoverme.Shecouldn’tunderstandwhyIwouldn’tappreciatewhatshewasgivingme.Toher,itwassimple:carrotsweregood,andIshouldacceptthemwithoutquestion.
Thatmomentchangedeverything.Irealizedthatherloveforcarrotswasnolongerjustaboutmyhealth—itwasabouthercontroloverme.Shewantedmetoeatthemnotbecausetheyweregoodforme,butbecauseshewantedtofeellikeshewasdoingeverythingrightasamother.Itwasawayforhertovalidateherself,toprovethatshewasdoingherbest.AndwhenIrejectedthem,itfeltlikerejectingher.
ButIcouldn’tkeeplivinglikethat.Ihadtofindawaytodealwithherobsession,toprotectmyselffromthepressureshewasputtingonme.Istartedeatingthecarrotsslowly,justenoughtomakeherhappy,butnotenoughtomakemyselfsick.Itworkedforawhile,butdeepdown,Iknewthatthiswasn’thealthy.
Overtime，Ibegantoseepatternsinmymother’sbehavior.Everytimesheservedcarrots,itwasatest.ShewouldwatchmecloselytoseehowmuchIate,howIreacted,andhowIfeltaboutit.Toher,myenjoymentofcarrotswasareflectionofmygratitudeandrespectforher.AndifIdidn’tmeetherexpectations,shewouldpunishmebygivingmeevenmorecarrots,asifforcingmetoacceptthemwouldfixeverything.
有一次，我终于忍不住了。我告诉她：“妈妈，我不喜欢吃胡萝卜，无论你怎么做，我都无法改变这一点。我喜欢其他食物，比如西兰花和菠菜，它们让我感觉更好。”
Shelookedatmewithamixofangerandsadness,herhandstremblingslightly.“You’rechoosingyourpreferencesoveryourhealth？”sheasked,hervoicebreaking.“What’swrongwithyou？”
Itriedtoexplain,butshewouldn’tlisten.ShewastoocaughtupinherownemotionstoseethatwhatIneededwasunderstanding,notcriticism.Fromthatdayon,theatmosphereinourhomebecametense.Mealswerenolongerenjoyable;theywerebattlegrounds.
Itwasn’tuntilmuchlaterthatIrealizedwhatwashappening.Mymother’sobsessionwithcarrotswasnotjustaboutthevegetables—itwasaboutherneedtocontrolme,tomakesureIwas“perfect”ineveryway.Shehadalwaysbeenawomanwhostruggledwithherowninsecurities,andherstrangerelationshipwithcarrotswasawayforhertocopewithherfearsanddoubts.
Butthatdidn’tmakeitokay.Herlovehadbecomedistorted,turningsomethingassimpleasamealintoasourceofconflict.AndIcouldn’thelpbutwonder:wasthisreallyaboutme,orwasitabouther?
Eventually,Ihadtodistancemyselffromher.NotbecauseIdidn’tloveher,butbecauseIcouldn’tkeeplivinginaenvironmentwheremyfeelingsandboundarieswereconstantlyignored.Itwasadifficultdecision,butIknewitwastherightone.
Now,asIlookback,Irealizethatmymother’slovewasacomplexthing.Itwasrootedinherownchildhood,herownfears,andherowndesirestobethebestparentshecouldbe.Butwhenitbecamecontrollingandsuffocating,itwasnolongerhealthy—eitherforherorforme.
Intheend,Ilearnedthatlove,nomatterhowwell-intentioned,cansometimesbeharmfulifit’snotbalancedwithunderstandingandrespect.AndIlearnedthatit’sokaytosetboundaries,evenwiththepeoplewelovethemost.
Forme,thestoryofthecarrotswasalessoninrecognizingthedifferencebetweenhealthyloveandunhealthycontrol.Ittaughtmethatsometimes,thethingswethoughtwereaboutusarereallyaboutsomeoneelse’sneeds—andthatit’sokaytotakeastepbackandprioritizemyownwell-being.
Andasforthecarrots？Istilldon’teatthemmuch,butInolongerfeelguiltyaboutit.Life’stooshorttoeatthingsyoudon’tlike,especiallywhenit’sjustavegetable.
