The Stories We Tell Ourselves

I signed up for USPS Informed Delivery because I like to see what’s coming in the mail. Most of the time, it’s junk mail, but a few months ago, I saw that a package was coming from Poshmark, an online company like eBay that allows users to buy and sell new or used clothing or home goods. My daughter often buys and sells on Poshmark, and she has surprised me a time or two with a gift that she got for a good price. So I assumed the Poshmark package was from her.

I texted her about it: “I see I’m getting something from Poshmark. What could that be?”

“It’s not from me, lol,” she wrote back. “Did Dad order something? Let me know if it ends up being a bomb.”

She had to be joking because my husband would not order something from Poshmark, and I was pretty sure that it wouldn’t be a bomb because she knows my taste and size pretty well.  I decided she was playing coy so she wouldn’t blow the surprise, so I dropped it.

When the package arrived, it had my address on it, but the name was wrong. It was the name of the previous owner. “That’s strange,” I thought. “Poshmark must have autofilled the name based on the address,” I told myself.

I opened the package, and inside were a pair of Birkenstock sandals exactly like the ones I had purchased a few months before but a size bigger. I texted my daughter: “You really didn’t send me a Poshmark gift, did you?”

“I told you I didn’t,” she texted back.

She was right. She told me she didn’t, but I interpreted her remarks to mean something they didn’t mean. I told myself a story that wasn’t true based on my interpretation of what I read and my own personal lens. I deceived myself by believing what I wanted to believe. I mean, who doesn’t want a surprise gift from Poshmark curated by someone who knows style and trends?

My experience is indicative of how human beings interpret reality based on what we want and what we believe about the world. When it comes to disinformation or fake news, we need to be on guard because we are prone to believe the stories that make sense to us or fit into our worldview. We can’t ignore the facts that are confirmed through several reputable sources and instead, choose to believe a tale that Hollywood would have a hard time portraying in a believable manner. That would be like dismissing my daughter’s denial of a surprise Poshmark package along with the wrong name on the address label.

I taped up the Poshmark box, and with my daughter’s help, located our home’s previous owner on Facebook, who was apologetic for not correcting her address on Poshmark.  She picked it up from my porch later that day. I didn’t tell her I opened the box though I can confirm her good taste in sandals. Believing the stories I tell myself without interrogating them, at least a little, can be embarrassing.