After work, on my way home, I suddenly had a craving for pomelo. It wasn’t something I often thought about, but the idea of peeling back those thick layers and savoring the sweet, citrusy fruit felt oddly comforting. I decided to stop by the grocery store and bought a plump, golden pomelo.
As I drove home, I realized my craving wasn’t just about the fruit itself—it was a metaphor for the journey I’ve been on lately: peeling back the layers of myself.
When I got home, I sat down with the pomelo in front of me. As I made the first cut into its thick rind, I thought about how much effort it takes to peel. You can’t just use your nails; you need a knife to break through the tough outer skin. And even then, you have to be careful not to cut too deep, or you might damage the tender fruit inside.
The more I peeled, the more I noticed the fresh, zesty scent filling the air. It reminded me of the healing journey I’ve been on—a slow, deliberate process of removing the layers I’ve built around myself over the years. Some of these layers were placed by others: family expectations, cultural norms, societal pressures. Others I put there myself, to shield my wounds and protect my heart.
Peeling the pomelo is like working through those layers. It takes patience and care. It’s not about rushing to the core but about appreciating the process. And as the scent of the pomelo grows stronger with each layer removed, it reminds me of the parts of myself I’m rediscovering—unique, authentic, and untouched by external influences.
This process of peeling also taught me the value of gentleness. You can’t rush healing, just like you can’t rush peeling a pomelo. If you’re too hasty, you risk tearing the fruit apart. But when you go slowly, you realize that the reward isn’t just the sweet taste of the fruit—it’s the satisfaction of knowing you’ve taken the time to honor the process.
The pomelo’s core, once revealed, is vibrant, juicy, and nourishing. It’s worth every effort. That’s how I see my inner self now. Beneath all the wounds, expectations, and noise, there’s something pure and beautiful waiting to be fully embraced. And just like the pomelo, it’s mine to cherish, not for anyone else’s validation or approval, but because it’s inherently good.
Peeling that pomelo that evening became a quiet moment of reflection, a symbol of my journey back to myself. The taste of the fruit was sweet, but the sense of clarity it gave me was even sweeter. I realized healing isn’t just about removing what doesn’t belong; it’s about uncovering what has always been there, waiting patiently to be found.