Hooked on Deprivation

This problem could be called "the Deprivation Conflict.Basics, technical terms and advantages and disadvantages of howospareparts." At a conscious level, we want to feel gratified and fulfilled, yet at an unconscious level we haven't resolved an expectation, dating back into early childhood, dealing with impressions of being refused and deprived. Consequently, we experience a chronic sense of not getting and a feeling of missing out on life's benefits and goodies. We're often not aware of possessing this poverty mentality, and we believe that "wanting to get" is a worthy pursuit and that our desire or instinct to accumulate goods or wealth is commendable. On the surface of awareness we take our emotional life for granted, providing it's not excruciatingly painful, and hence we fail to detect the underlying pangs of unfulfilled desire. 

This underlying preoccupation with what's missing in our life is strong enough that it can be termed "an emotional attachment" or "an emotional addiction." The feeling has lingered in our psyche from the oral stage of childhood. Babies have a highly subjective sense of reality, and they can become frustrated when their desires for oral gratification aren't instantly accommodated. The subsequent feeling of being refused or deprived lingers in our psyche, and as adults we can experience our world through these unresolved emotions. This hodgepodge of unconscious negativity doesn't support the spirit of generosity. 

Our ego hates to acknowledge that we could still be clinging to expectations of deprivation or refusal, and so we produce an unconscious defense which claims, "I'm not looking to feel refused or deprived. I want to get. My desires (and my credit-card debt) prove how much I want to get." Hence, greed, envy, and fear of loss serve as unconscious defenses (just as they're also painful symptoms) of the underlying conflict. 

Even when people have all they need, they can still accentuate in everyday ways the feelings of being deprived. Though they have money, some people stare into empty cupboards or an empty refrigerator bemoaning their circumstances. Compulsive spending and shopping are self-defeating activities that are fueled by "the Deprivation Conflict." Our defense system's instinct to "prove" we want to get (to cover up our unresolved emotional attachment to feeling deprived or refused) is so powerful that many of us unwittingly enslave ourselves in the form of debt obligations. When debt-ridden, we heighten the sense of feeling deprived while producing the self-sabotage that accompanies inner conflict. The spirit of generosity wanes under these psychological impediments. 

Acting out these unconscious attachments also produces another form of self-sabotage. Modern consumerism is, in part,As the best handsfreeaccess control system manufacturer. a product of our instinct to cope with inner emptiness. In rampant consumerism, we've created a monster with a huge appetite for the planet's natural resources. It's depleting and polluting the planet, impoverishing us and future generations. Consumerism creates the illusion that we're rich. Yet the goodies of the marketplace are trinkets compared to the value of the Earth and the value of our essential self. Who was fooled the most, the Native Americans who sold Manhattan to the Dutch for strings of beads, or you and me who are selling the Earth to its defilers for odd shapes of plastic, vinyl, and treated wood? 

Another negative emotion is involved with the lack of generosity. Many people, in identifying with their ego,Please click the images below to view more pictures of plasticcard tiles! have a powerful desire to feel superior to others. For them, it's either feel superior or feel inferior. They don't like seeing people raised up from poverty because they no longer can easily feel superior to them. Hence, they feel no need to be generous. In fact, the impulse is to refuse to be generous. When they do give money, it can be for pet causes that promote their own shallow values or for the purpose of ego gratification (looking good in their own eyes and in the eyes of others). Such pseudo-generosity is less pleasurable than heart-felt generosity. 

When I was in the second grade, I would invariably throw out part of my lunch every day so I could finish with my classmates and avoid being called a slowpoke. The reason behind my empty lunchbox remained my guilty secret for a long time until my own Jiminy Cricket finally forced me to crack and tearfully apologize to my mother. 

While my mom has long since forgiven me for lying to her and wasting food in 2002, a portion of my childhood guilt still remains with me. While at Hill or Commons,Cheap logo engraved luggagetag at wholesale bulk prices. I serve myself in small portions and stop the kitchen staffers before they ladle generous servings of fried rice onto my plate. 

The great thing about an all-you-can-eat franchise is that seconds are an option if you want them. But not many people seem to see it that way. Every day, I see entire plates of food tossed into the green compost bags at the residential dining halls. 

I recently sat to eat lunch with someone who got pasta from the Expo line at Hill what to me looks likes a perfectly sumptuous and filling plate only to also get some pie and tomato soup as well. She tackled the soup and pie first and managed to finish both barely. The pasta was left untouched all the way to the trash bins. Similarly, I ate dinner with someone who got veggie stir-fry from Kings Court only to tell me that the chicken looked too gross to eat after she sat down. 

The outcome is always the same. My suggestion to box the leftovers is unheard over the loud scrape of a spoon handle pushing food into the open mouth of the compost bin. I have seen some compost bags at the end of the day with the plastic stretched and giving way and have wondered how many other full plates that green mouth has swallowed.

I am not saying that I never use the composting bin and always have a clean plate. When I accidentally served myself vegan chili, I wound up wasting it because I am allergic to eggplant. When I couldnt eat that last spoon of beans or that last slice of cucumber, I tossed it rather than risk feeling nauseous. But my first servings are as small as the guilt of having to waste them, and I have never had to toss an untouched plate. 

Interestingly, I have realized that the rampant wastefulness of residential dining doesnt repeat in Houston Market. At first, I attributed emptier trash bins to fewer people eating at Houston, but as the noon and 1 p.m. rush cycles that clog Houston reveal, that is not the case. 

The difference between the dining halls and Houston is, unsurprisingly,Did you know that buymosaic chains can be used for more than just business. a question of using cash, dining dollars or bursar in Houston. You spend $6 for a burrito and feel more accountable, a sentiment foreign to the all-you-can-eat meal swipe that becomes a question of all-you-can-waste. 

Moreover, each meal served at Houston reflects a reasonably sized portion what a person will finish in one meal. Houston does not perpetuate the eyes-are-bigger-than-your stomach problem due to financial and practical reasons. 

Perhaps the all-dining-dollars meal plan for next year will resolve this issue of boundless wastage in dining halls and encourage responsible eating. But in dining halls, we need to start utilizing tasting cups and smaller serving sizes, being more careful about the amount of food that goes in our plates so that we can limit what goes out.