Crippling Self-Doubt

You guys, I am terrified. So terrified, in fact, that I have just eaten:

• a brownie,
• a second serving of dinner
• half a packet of lemon cream biscuits and
• an entire slab of hazelnut chocolate

And I’m not even hungry.

With a stomach that feels like a giant pimple on the verge of popping, I write this post to you, hoping that I am not alone in my useless fear.

I wish I could tell you about one thing that is casing the food in my stomach to feel like a washing machine set on high speed, but the truth is that my anxiety comes from a mixture of everything and, at the same time, absolutely nothing.

Sometimes our inner Emotions Monster makes us feel like shit, while our inner Plato is rolling his eyes at us condescendingly, screaming “There is no logical explanation for your pain!”

But the truth is that most of the time our fear is illogical. We know that we will never be on the streets starving because we chose to study journalism instead of medicine (in a completely impersonal example), but try telling that to the Emotions Monster.

Right now, my future is completely in the hands of God or Divine Energy or Oprah (and I’m kind of hoping it’s Oprah because that woman clearly knows what she’s doing) and I just have to learn to be okay with that.

This does not mean that I want to be okay with that, nor does it mean that I won’t stuff my already bulging potbelly with the rest of the brownie that’s lying in the brown takeaway box next to me as I write this (god knows how I allowed it to stay safe from my mouth in the first place), but it does mean that perhaps I can allow myself to entertain the idea that Oprah will help me as things unfold. I might not have to do this alone, which might make things a little easier along the way.  

And maybe, just maybe, my stomach can unknot itself enough to let out a well-deserved relaxing fart.

Lots of love (and TMI),
Amey xx

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The magic of cleaning, in the words of an ex mess-a-holic.

You guys, I’m going to be honest. I was that roommate that never did the dishes. Yes, that inconsiderate person who genuinely saw no problem with leaving a giant pile of messy dishes on the kitchen counter for others to deal with. Just the thought of this makes me wish I could go back and shake myself. You see, I always thought that people who constantly cleaned were just using it as a distraction from their real problems. It was as if they believed that cleaning their room would magically clean their life. These people always seemed so unhappy to me, and so I was remarkably proud of the Mess Mountain that was my room. The only problem? My messy ass was unhappy too. I couldn’t help but wonder, if clean people were unhappy and messy people were unhappy, what the hell are we supposed to do?

After becoming a much cleaner person (although I do still enjoy a bit of “comfort clutter”), thanks to the Queen of Clean herself, Marie Kondo, I have formulated a little hypothesis that explains the true magic of cleaning in the eyes of an ex mess-a-holic:

1. The real benefit of cleaning is in the fact that you no longer have to worry about cleaning.
2. This means you have no excuse but to deal with the real problems in your life.
3. Thus, cleaning can make you a better person.

Whether your bookshelf is organised in alphabetical order or you have to cross Mess Mountain to get to your bed, I truly hope that you can learn to deal with the things that are truly important in your life- like making time to curl up with a cup of tea and slab of chocolate on a Sunday evening.

Lots of love
Amey

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