cake

My life is a mess these days. I'm so stressed that I'm always at my breaking point; I'm stretched so thin that I'm transparent.

Today I cried three times. THREE TIMES. 

It takes all my energy to get through the day; to remind myself that everything will be ok, that I will make it. I give myself a running pep-talk--you can do this, Becky. Keep your chin up. You are alive, and that is reason enough to be happy. BECKY get your shit together.

Sometimes my pep talks get a little harsh when I get frustrated at myself for being such a mess.

I look at my happy list, my list of things that make me feel like me. Yoga, read, cook, sleep, tea, music. But, the list is confusing when I'm in this mood, because I don't want to do any of them. None of them make sense to me.

Except for one.

So, I go in the kitchen and pull out my mixer. I tie on my apron, and I start pulling ingredients out of the cupboards to make a cake. Flour, sugar, butter. As I move about the kitchen, I fall into a familiar, comfortable routine. Measure, add, mix. I can feel myself calming down, my emotions steadying. Beat the egg whites, fold. It's amazing to me, how this array of ingredients can blend together to make something quite different, something wonderful. And, as the cake comes together, so do I.

As I make my cake, I also make a mess. Flour spills on the counter, dirty bowls pile up in the sink, batter drips off spatulas onto the counter. It will take nearly as long to clean up from making the cake as it actually took to make the cake. I really don't like cleaning up the mess. It is bothersome and annoying and a chore and I would really rather just sit down and enjoy my cake.

But, no matter how much I hate the mess, I still make my cake because I know that out of the mess comes something good, something worth the mess. I know that I can't have my cake without the mess. I know that I will remember the goodness of the cake longer than I remember the annoyance of the mess.

Plus, cake.

At some point in this ritual, I remember that I'll be ok. The mess in my life is there because I'm alive and I'm living and I'm working to create something beautiful. The mess and and the beauty are hand in hand, always.

Sometimes, all I need to do is bake something to remember.