食べづらい部分のカニの身を食べながら、「これを一たび吹けば、素敵な音色がなるといいのにね」と言うと、「そういう機嫌のときの君がいちばん良い」と返されて、わたしはそんなのはつまみ食いに過ぎず、いいとこ取りなのだと不服な気持ちで反論した。でもしばらくして思った。それのどこが悪いことなんだろう？ わたしは自分のすべてを受け入れようとして、深刻な不眠症になり、憂鬱や不安をやわらげる薬を毎月何十錠も渡されている。
As I teased out the stubborn pieces of crab meat, I said, “I wish I could blow on this and coax a melody out of it.” And they replied, “I wish I could always watch you when you’re like this.” I argued back—a little indignant—that picking only these moments was like plucking treats from the edge of the plate, cherry-picking the best parts and leaving the rest behind.
But later, I found myself wondering: Why should that be a bad thing?
I’ve tried to embrace every part of myself—and in doing so, I’ve slipped into deep insomnia. Now, each month, I’m handed dozens of pills for the weight of my sadness, my anxiety.