may i please just use this space to complain. no need for a response. i am just going to vent. mostly i’m talking to myself:
- dear self. enough with the fucking sore shoulder, do you think that rolling out pastry for 50 individuals pies yesterday was going to go unnoticed? holy shoulder batman. i’m going to physio next week. i have to. even if they can’t help ‘nerve pain’ i have to try. and i’m going to complain to my doctor. she’ll order an ultrasound. i’ll waste more time waiting for non-answers. but i’m going to do it. argh. [we suffer a long time before we start to TRY things that we’re SURE won’t work for us because our pain is SPECIAL. jesus.]
- dear self. the idea of a second fridge, while entirely useful for a large catering job, is in fact too loud to be right by my head in the office. I hear it all day. OK, there are 50 potpies in there, and the fucking fridge had to run for 4 hrs to cool it down properly. what i need is a big commercial fridge. yeah, like that’ll be quieter. the noise. i thought it was pigeons on the balcony. that’s the noise this new fridge is making. i’m going to return it. just as soon as i deliver the fucking potpies tomorrow morning. [as a group, we are overly sensitive. to everything. to noise, to smells, to exhaustion, to overwhelm, to dog food commercials.]
- dear self. that one bread product that’s due tomorrow that you have not made even ONCE in advance to make sure the recipe works, that’s just foolish. in the extreme. you watch yourself not doing the trial, because why? because you’re worried it won’t work. and instead, maybe it will work, and you could have retired this thought from your head 3 weeks ago. and if it doesn’t work, what are you going to do tomorrow morning when it’s catering delivery time? why are you setting yourself up like this? you haven’t slept through the night properly in weeks (shoulder + catering). yes, you keep running, yes you’re smiling, yes you’re making dinner for your husband, yes it’s sunny (but cold). yes. yes. But it could be BETTER. why are you avoiding BETTER? What the fuck is it about you that makes slamming your hand in a car door seem like a good idea? [when there’s an easy way to do something, we choose the hard way.]
- dear self. your reward for finishing this fucking wedding catering is an iphone. you’ve done this noble no-phone thing long enough. there are apps out there that you you probably ‘need’ – all this printing out maps on paper and then getting lost on the highway? that has to stop. and the truly embarrassing and shameful and embarrassing (and embarrassing) thing is that JP in Team 100 was so amazingly generous and she GAVE you $x00 using the tiny gift button. In November. Yeah, 6 months ago. And you haven’t bought yourself a treat yet. This is a shame. Truly. What is up with you? You kept telling her (and yourself) that you hadn’t found the RIGHT treat. you didn’t want to ‘waste’ the gift. you weren’t sure you needed a kitchenaid stand mixer so you did a month’s research. and then didn’t buy it. you’re doing all of this catering without a stand mixer. are you high? JP said this: “Hi Belle Here is a donation for you! Thank you so much for all you do! xo jp” And you’ve just sat there, staring at it this money. Is it that you think you don’t deserve it? does it feel totally scary when people give you money that you think you haven’t ‘earned’ … buy an iphone, OK. just get over yourself. buy an iphone 6, black, with a data package. and then play video games on the metro like everyone else. [the amount of money isn’t important here, the feeling of ‘not good enough’ is.]
- dear self. the last time you catered a wedding you had 3 people come and help you. you were just over one year sober, and you were very careful to avoid overwhelm. Now you can handle more, and you don’t feel wobbly in your sobriety, but that does NOT mean you don’t still need help. yes this wedding job is much smaller than the last one. and yes you did it all in advance (except for the bread product). but if you had someone doing it with you, it would have been easier, been done on time, you’d have been more organized, and you wouldn’t have had to do it alone. what’s with the alone nonsense? Stephanie offered twice to help and you said no. What’s up with that? You didn’t NEED her help? [take their milkshakes.]
- dear self. your life may seem glamorous to others. the european location, the first-world-problems of catering. you’re still a regular human with regular problems. these same problems will surface whether you’re trying to figure out how to carpool to the sports event, or how you’re going to get all the studying done, or if you’re catering a wedding at the embassy. you’re the same person in each thing. the problems are the same. you haven’t upgraded to a more ‘glamorous’ setting. you’re still you. don’t let anyone (Eleanor!) think you have it all figured out. you don’t. be among. [being sober longer means i finally get to use some of my brain resources on this stuff, instead of using all of my available brain resources on avoiding wolfie. don’t i make long-term sobriety sound great? hahaha].
- and finally, note to self: don’t do it like this again, OK? No kidding. you have to evolve now. enough fucking around. sleep all day on sunday. borrow someone’s car and drive to the water. do a long run. eat incredibly ridiculous food (pastrami! pizza! imported potato chips!). Then clean off your desk, OK?
[please read this with the spirit intended. if i get a lot of ‘must be nice to have THOSE problems’ then you’re missing the point. and if i get a lot of “you’re being too hard on yourself” – then yes, that is the point. why are we so hard on ourselves? why the hand-slamming? what does it serve?]
oh and ps, it’s beautifully sunny, and while i haven’t slept well this week, the catering is finished tomorrow afternoon and then i’ll be so freaking happy i can FEEL that feeling already. the feeling of it being done. of delivering the 9 layer cake, the 50 pot pies, the cheesecakes, the bread product. i want to transport myself THERE. and yet, i’m here. because i have things to learn here. things about hand-slamming. things about (more often) downloading the contents of my head so that it doesn’t spin too loudly.