It’s been a strange few days betwixt my ears. I wouldn’t say down or even unhappy, just different.
I’ve been cooking a lot more, it feels good. It’s a newfound, yet previously felt passion that I never thought I’d feel again. The very thought of cooking, proper cooking, terrified me. Yes I’ve made scrambled egg and a bit of chicken and vegetables, but putting thought-out dishes together has been a great success on my journey through recovery.
The feeling I mention above, is something like a sense of regret combined with ‘what could’ve been’. Perhaps even a dash of shame. I think, anyway. It seems a contradicting set of emotions, to feel joy and passion, to then let it be overshadowed by these feelings.
I think to myself, ‘it’ll pass’, but will it? Am I allowed to enjoy something I once loved? Even though I let everything surrounding this very passion, including the passion itself, crash and burn?…. It brings back the hatred I once had for myself, the shame of our family business having to abruptly cease due to my breakdown. I know they don’t agree with that and they will in no doubt tell me off for thinking these things. To this day it still sits in the back of my mind however, vegetating and growing fur.
I feel I need to get determined to overcome this irrational emotion. Kick it’s ass to the curb and enjoy anything that makes me smile. Cooking is a love, a hobby and a space in which I’m free.
One day I hope to call myself a chef again. One day I hope to come to terms with the disaster surrounding this passion and conquer it even more so than I have previously! One day I will have a kitchen, call myself the chef and I’ll smile, morning, noon and night….