During one of my therapy sessions, my psychotherapist shared an insightful perspective: if something irritates us, there’s a reason behind it, and it’s an area worth exploring. This notion particularly struck a chord with me when I considered my reaction to a scene in the movie ‘Remember Me.’ It was a moment of revelation, sparking a shift in my understanding.

In this scene, the character Ally orders dessert in a restaurant before her main course. I remember watching this scene years ago, dismissing it as trivial and feeling irritation toward the character’s unconventional choice. As I reevaluated it, I recognized my underlying emotion: jealousy. I envied Ally’s ability to confidently break free from conventions and rules. For years, I had adhered to the opposite pattern – starting with the starter, moving to the main course, and when it was time for dessert, there was no room left. More often than not, I never allowed myself to claim the ‘prize’ I’d eagerly anticipated.

This pattern extended beyond culinary experiences. While planning my day, I would habitually structure it to fit in all my obligations first, with the hope of enjoying a well-deserved rest afterward, whether it meant going out with friends, watching a series, or reading a book. Sadly, when the time came for my ‘reward,’ I often lacked the energy to indulge. I willingly bid farewell to the anticipated pleasure, guided by my own self-imposed standards.
Subconsciously, I adhered to the same pattern for many years, withholding pleasures from myself until I believed I had worked hard enough to deserve them. This self-denial stemmed from feelings of unworthiness. There were instances, like my grocery shopping, where I’d deny myself more expensive products, citing that I hadn’t yet earned enough to afford them. This self-deprivation was irrational, considering that I earned enough to enjoy salmon regularly. In stark contrast, I would readily buy expensive and frivolous items for my husband simply because he desired them, never questioning the cost. It never crossed my mind that some things might be ‘too expensive.’

I fondly recall the day when, as part of my therapy homework, I had to write down five things I believed I deserved, and then I had to inscribe in my journal, in my own handwriting, ‘I allow myself salmon; I deserve salmon.’ It seems humorous to me now, but back then, this was a significant step in confronting a challenging issue that had felt impossible to overcome. Throughout my life, I had repeatedly denied myself simple and sublime pleasures, all while punishing myself for not achieving what I deemed as ‘enough’ or ‘perfection.

I know of an elderly couple who committed their entire lives to grueling, often near backbreaking labor in pursuit of building the house of their dreams. They invested their own hard-earned funds and adamantly refused credit. This arduous endeavor spanned over two decades. Upon its completion, they discovered themselves in a state of frail health and advanced age, rendering them incapable of tending to the dream garden and cherished home they had envisioned.

Similarly, I’ve encountered a middle-aged married couple who deferred their decision to have children in anticipation of achieving career success and financial stability. When they finally felt ready, they encountered an unfortunate reality – they could no longer have children.

Throughout my life, I’ve witnessed countless people presented with numerous opportunities by life itself. However, they perpetually waited for something ‘better,’ which, regrettably, never materialized.

Likely, each of us harbors a metaphorical ‘salmon’—a desire or dream we believe we don’t truly deserve. Many people aspire to ‘eat dessert first,’ metaphorically speaking, yet they remain in a state of perpetual waiting, anticipating some unknown permission, rule change, or an ideal ‘better time’ in the future. They await the arrival of a ‘better tomorrow.’

But the question we must ask ourselves is, what are we waiting for? The truth is, there’s nothing to wait for. Every day offers a perfect opportunity to savor the ‘dessert’ of life, right here and now.

So, what is this inner light? I propose a theory that it’s nothing more than a robust sense of self-confidence instilled through upbringing and nurtured into adulthood. It’s enriched with self-awareness, mindfulness, charisma, and a positive attitude, creating an enviable, explosive mix.

Akeem’s upbringing in a royal family emphasized his uniqueness from a young age. When parents and those closest to you consistently affirm your worth and uniqueness, you accept it as indisputable, much like the sunrise. In the palace, the prince interacted with numerous strangers, household staff, foreign dignitaries, and countless people eager to converse with him or merely share the same space. The outside world didn’t have a chance to erode his belief in his uniqueness; instead, it reinforced it. If the film’s protagonist had grown up in the “ordinary world,” his self-image, influenced by his parents, would likely change quickly during initial interactions with peers.

When I was a child, I loved to sing, and I did so whenever the opportunity arose. These impromptu home concerts, featuring songs from the likes of Britney Spears and the Spice Girls (I can’t hide the fact that I’m a millennial), were where I showcased my passion. My mother consistently praised my singing, often emphasizing how beautifully I sang and how much talent I had. I wholeheartedly believed her.

However, my first painful encounter with doubt occurred when I was just six years old. I wanted to perform on stage during a children’s festival. The event allowed anyone willing to present their favorite song and win lollipops. My mother was horrified by my idea, and she even offered me sweets not to perform. She feared that I would embarrass myself and, by extension, her. Whether I would have succeeded or failed, we’ll never know. That’s when shame took root in me.

I clung to my belief in my talent for years, at least until my time in middle school. I volunteered to sing a hymn in the church during mass. I attended a private Catholic gymnasium where we began each weekday with a school mass. I vividly recall starting to sing, only to be met with laughter from my classmates. Looking back now, it’s unclear whether they laughed because I was off-key or simply out of defiance and boredom. Regardless, that was the last time I sang in public. The experience shook my faith in myself and my abilities to such an extent that I still speak more softly when I’m stressed or feeling insecure.

The external world can significantly influence a child’s self-esteem, which is often untouched by judgments and opinions. Akeem, the character from ‘Coming to America,’ never had the opportunity to experience such doubt because he received unwavering assurance of his value and uniqueness from everyone he encountered, whether sincerely or insincerely. This belief was ingrained in his upbringing and became deeply rooted in his subconscious. It was this unwavering self-assuredness that allowed him to confidently radiate his unique qualities throughout his adult life, undeterred by the judgments that often break others.