The Last Cupcake

Dear Cupcake,

I miss you. Right now I am really missing your company. I can’t think of anything I’d like to be doing more this evening than sitting on the sofa, the fire - well to be honest its kind of just smoking at the moment but its showing roaring possibilities - and a lovely little cupcake, complete with butter icing an inch thick, and sprinkled with sugar, erm, sprinkles.

Chocolate icing, pink icing, vanilla icing, chocolate chips…..

I’m not feeling my motivationally strongest today. It’s no one thing, rather a combination of smaller things mounting up and just leaving me exhausted, crumpled and grabbing despairingly and with disgust at my rolls of fat.

Last night my mum called to tell me that my grandmother is very ill. She’s 93 and lives in residential care. I haven’t seen her in 3 years because she had trouble recognising me as her granddaughter. I think we both found it an upsetting experience, and I know that now she is even having trouble recognising my father. Apparently she is deteriorating and we should expect the worse possibly in the next few days.

Work has been bizarre and stressful because of some playground bullying antics of one girl towards her boss and those around her. It is a very small office, only about 20 of us in total and the atmosphere has gotten gradually more tense and unbearable over the last few weeks. The epicentre appears to be one girl in particular who is vicious in her bitching in a way that I find upsetting and have had to leave her company a couple of times. I try to avoid her in general but the place is like a pressure cooker at the moment and the backbiting and sniping is getting to me.

Lastly, my stomach has swollen up like a pumpkin. Ooh how depressing I hear you cry, sweet cupcake. Well it is - in so far as it usually a sign that my monthly guest is on its way to town. Which since we have been trying to have a baby for 2 years without any success is just little dig in the ribs and excuse to feel a bit sorry for myself.

As I drove home from work tonight, feeling a little teary, I thought about coming home, lighting the fire, having a glass of wine, and maybe just maybe popping over to the shop to pick up a “treat”.

But since the traffic was quite so slow, I had a bit of time to think about it all and question what it was about cake that I thought would make it all better.

Of course the answer was “nothing”

So how would it make me feel, if not better. And the surprising answer to this little bit of self analysis was “add to my sense of self-loathing and lack of control”. I can’t control what happens around me, I can’t control what happens to my Nan, I can’t make my colleague change her behaviour, and I can’t do anymore than I am doing to get pregnant (we’re under the care of medical specialists on this one). I might not even be able to choose how I feel about all this. But I can choose how I behave.

Thinking about all your lovely tasty icing options before, I actually felt really sad for feeling that for even a brief moment (or half an hour!) that that was  my answer; to make myself feel worse! Where is the sense in that?

I don’t feel any better about the things above that are bothering  me. But in understanding my reaction to them a little better I can stop myself from falling deeper into the hole.

So whilst I may still have a glass of wine later, it will be to enjoy the wine, not to salve any hurt. And i the meantime, I will sit by my fizzling fire and finish my cup of liquorice tea (the maddest thing - its naturally sweet!!)