Honestly, I’ve never been an A+ baker. I’m not bad, but I’m not going to win cupcake wars – ever (a girl can dream though!).
But I love it. I love everything about baking. The smells, the process, the anticipation, the proud moments, the tears when your muffins become soup, the smiles when your cupcake is display worthy for an hour or so. It has become apart of me, something I do weekly, whether the cookies get burnt or not – nothing brings me to enough tears that I stop doing it.
That’s how I know I love it so much. When my soup muffins that were NOT supposed to be soup muffins quickly threw me into a five year olds body having a temper tantrum – it still didn’t cause me to stop. I went to bed upset, woke up ready to start again. Ahh, the joy of sleeping it off!
BA and I will bake on Sunday’s usually – having the anxiety of going into another week on Monday, we like to take it down a notch by spending some time in the kitchen. It’s become something we love to do, even though he kind of just sits there and watches the TV while I randomly throw him a whisker asking him to use his strength to mix the batter. He’s a real keeper, the perfect sous chef.
Do you want to bake something?
It’s a normal question to us now – both knowing it means we (mostly I) probably have some sort of anxiety about something (surprise, surprise) and we are about to keep our minds away from the thoughts with burnt cookies and flour all over the dogs face.
I’ve found it easier to catch myself before I fall into the tragic phase of a panic attack by overpowering the thoughts with something else. Something that makes your mind think, but keeps it just enough relaxed. Something that gets you excited to see the outcome, excited to see what your hands whipped together this time.
I swear, one morning at 2AM when anxiety takes over, BA will find me in the kitchen pouring cupcake mix into tins.
I’ve been trying to slow down lately, even asking BA if we could drive slower than we normally do (he was thoroughly confused – then proceeded to drive the car at 20mph so I had to ask him to speed up – it’s a struggle, this slowing down thing). You know, just take it day by day, little by little, step by step. I don’t want feel rushed anymore – like I need to get to the next thing faster. It’s been overwhelming trying to keep up with everything we’ve taken on, and I’ve decided to take it down a notch. I’ve decided to do what’s best for me and my health – which includes more than 1 hour of sleep at night, less computer screens in bed, and far less anxiety due to over-scheduled calendars. I’m one for working your way up in this world, pursuing your dreams, and I’m also one for taking care of yourself when you need it. There’s a fine line.
It also includes seeing the people I love – making time for them. My schedule was getting so jammed up with things I was trying to do, goals I was trying to reach, that I forgot to include the ones who have been there for me through it all. I forgot to let them in, to let them see the mess of a house I have because I’ve been typing for 48 hours and my hands hurt too much to pick up the laundry on the floor.
I wanted to live a less chaotic life and live one more full of things that matter. One much less, but one much more.
So, with that my loves, I’ve slowed down a tremendous amount, and I highly suggest it.
If that includes baking even though you know of suck at it, go for it. If that includes writing even though you don’t post it, go for it.
Whatever it is, whatever your less chaotic life may consist of, do it more. Even if that means you can only do it once a week sometimes – like my Sunday baking parties for two. Becoming less can be strangely difficult, and baby steps may need to be a thing.
That’s okay, become a fake baker and make soup muffins to relieve the stress of the day. Baby steps.
What are you guys doing?