“I’m going to bake.
Food that’s nasty
Food that talks
Food that walks
And kills all dogs.”
So I figured that I’d make food that reflects exactly how I feel. It had to bleed on my behalf. This is a healthier way to “bleed” since I don’t encourage self harm. I haven’t been the happiest.
With bouts of on and off depression I’ve had to turn to different activities to distract myself. Now that I think about it, this is how I’ve ended up a dilettante. My seasonal interests in various fields has gained me friends,experience and the next seasons activity.
Today is a Sunday. I’m depressed. I can’t point at what has made me upset and this is how I recognise it. My friend tells me that I must remember that I own it and not the other way around. Breathing sessions after reading these words make me feel lighter but it’s not enough. I take a bowl,flour,sugar,icing sugar,cocoa powder,vegetable oil,a spatula,sprinkles and water. Ashley gave me a cake baking recipe a while ago. I search for it and use it as a guide. I’m not trying to concort a gut threatening poison.
My younger sister stands in a corner in the kitchen watching my every move. I can tell she senses my foul mood. I ignore her but occasionally offer a slight smile whenever I’m in her corner. I go back to scanning the recipe Ashley sent to me. Because of the faint ink on the recipe I actually have to squint my eyes to make the words out. I immediately notice that there isn’t enough flour to bake a cake. This increases my frustration. The thought of abandoning my only chance of a distraction upsets me. I stand leaning against the kitchen table with my back to the ingredients I had laid out on the table.
I spot a red food colorant and I feel myself light up. My muse is clearly aroused. I mix up all the ingredients with little water to match up the meagre amount of flour I did have. The colorant mixing up with the rest of the paste satisfies me immensely. The redness looks like relief. The sense in self harm begins to make sense. I decide to continue. My sister is now dangerously close to me,watching the red paste wide-eyed. At this point I am sure about what I’m creating. Muffins.
Not being a proper baker I ended up throwing stuff in especially at the point when I had to give the paste up to the oven. That’s me being clingy. That’s me not wanting to stop. Also me being a perfectionist. The wait after oven stage felt like ages. I had my earphones plugged in tightly to avoid unnecessary conversations with whoever would end up coming into the kitchen.
And today, all conversation was unnecessary. Whilst waiting I realised that I hadn’t had time to myself all week at all. With the house filled up and crowded I felt suffocated. Crowds make me feel uncomfortable plus I’m an introvert. I needed to recharge. My depression takes me places. The deepest place is always the same. I struggle with my Dad’s passing. Noone knows this. Noone notices this. I’m a careful person as much as I am protective. I do not wish for my sorrow to raise the sorrow in others.
Jhene Aiko says “Hell is not a place.Hell is not a certain evil,hell is other people and the lack of love”. I believe this so much. I should also add that hell is also the lack of other people. The lack of my father. I haven’t written about him much since he left. I glance outside the kitchen window and spot his car. It’s the one object that I can almost feel his presence. I’m close to tears. I hold back and clear my throat. My sister is in the room,I can’t break down. Not now. Not with her in the room.
My phone lights up and I move closer to it. It’s Mom. The message reads :”I just texted to check on you,I feel your anxiety from here,please be okay. Love you so much!”
Sometimes I feel like she’s psychic. Like we have some sort of surreal connection. She’s my mother,my keeper. The dawning and awareness of death and loss has me afraid to love completely. I’m almost always on the guard against the pain of loving and losing. But then I guess that’s our purpose on earth: “to love and let go”- continuously on repeat. I smell sweetness in the air. I should probably check my little red creations now. I feel excited all of a sudden. Like I’ve secretly made a little surprise for myself that I’ll now reveal- to myself. I chuckle and my sister joins me as I open the oven. I had expectations,they were not quite met but that’s okay. No. That can’t be right. I’ll rephrase that. I had no expectations. This was made randomly so I’m happy with the outcome. I created maroon muffins that I have decided to name “Elfins” after myself. I am pleased.
This little project helped me to get through my potion for the day. I don’t promise that it’ll work for everybody. Especially if you have no flour at all. My whole point was to show that self harm can be substituted. You’re always free to find your own ways. Pain can be alleviated when we realise that we’re not going through any of it alone. None of us are immune to the pain of losing someone we love or something we cherish. I offer Elfins today. That’s as far as I’ve gone.