I AM TOFU

I once sat in the therapist's chair, looked him square in the eye and told him I was tofu. He actually stopped writing, raised his eyebrows, looked over his glasses and told me I had just said something he had never heard before - and he had heard it all. Then he asked me in typical shrink fashion to explain myself. So I explained to the esteemed doctor that being tofu meant that I absorb the flavor of whatever is around me. Maybe I start the day floating around in a nice, mild vegetable broth. I find myself in a situation where I have a well-settled opinion. I feel strongly about my position and am comfortable with where my head (and heart, as the case may be) is. But along comes someone else's take on it (whatever "it" happens to be), and all of a sudden - whether I realize it at the time or not - I am suddenly transformed into a rich, pungent venison stock. I literally take on the other person's flavor. More pauses from the good doctor, more raised eyebrows, and more astonished looks. Translation: I am easily swayed. Pursuaded. Steared in one direction or another. I am so pliable that my surroundings and the people around me influence my very moods and my very personality.

I wrote that on June 6, 2006. I must have started it and never finished, or perhaps by June 7th, it didn't seem important to me anymore. Today, it is important. Because over the past few days, I have discovered a hideous side to the man I loved more than anyone before; the man I brought into my home; the man I fed three meals a day; the man I financially and emotionally supported for 12 months; the man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Things that were hidden in plain sight, but I was too busy being tofu to see them.