I’m sat on my kitchen floor with a pint of ice water just wanting to write. My kitchen is tiny and I’ve been baking so the whole place is boiling especially when you’re sat at eye level with the damn oven.
Tonight I tried to make biscuits for a recipe I have been using since I was two years old, but it turned out like shit. I spent half an hour adding more and more flour to it, not seeing where I had gone wrong and blaming the recipe for not providing the smooth, round dough I was promised. It was then that I realised I had added over 3x the amount of butter I should have by accident because I read the recipe wrong. After over 20 years of practice, I had massively cocked up on one of the simplest recipes in the world.
The funny thing was that I was only making these biscuits to cheer myself up because my self-confidence has been less than zero lately, so to get such a simple instruction wrong kind of made me laugh at the fucking irony of it all. I left my job recently because it was so draining, absolutely fucking exhausting to constantly feel like you’re not good enough and to also be told that you’re not good enough by people who you wholeheartedly believe in.
It is exhausting.
I haven’t slept in nine months.
At the moment I don’t feel like a shining opportunity is going to come along any time soon. I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. I don’t see myself getting a job in a worthwhile career in the near future and while it lifts me up a lot of the time, sometimes when everyone around you is doing so, so well in their own lives it can make you feel even shittier, intentional or not. It highlights the fact that at the moment, I have nothing and I’m doing nothing and I have no leads. I can’t even pay my rent.
I have been wondering lately what the point of trying is.
And then today, tonight, as I was cleaning an inch of flour off every work surface in my kitchen, I saw this image. I won’t go into detail about what the image was because that’s not really relevant to this post. But when I first saw it, I just had to stand there for a while and look at it. I had to take it all in. And then I was sad. A deep feeling of longing and despair and regret came over me. I wondered in that instant if I had made all the wrong choices in life. If I had actually completely fucked it all into oblivion and I wasn’t going to get the chance to start over again like you do when you’re 18.
Then from the bottom of my self-pity pit, I let it all wash over me and decided that this wasn’t how I wanted to feel at all. Maybe I can’t control whether I have money in my bank account or if other people think I’m worthwhile. But while I wait for something big to change, there are smaller things I can change. Because I controversially believe that happiness is a choice. Even if you’re not happy deep down, it’s easier than you think to fake it. Sometimes you can fake it so well that you might actually believe yourself for a day or two.
So from now on, I’m really going to try and make an effort to control the things I can control, rather than waiting for everything to just change itself. That’s why I’m sitting here, my forearms burning slightly from oven heat, the glass of water untouched. Because writing is free (even if a self-hosted blog is not) so I might as well do that when I want.