A doubtful flame and the sorrowing church

It’s Mother’s Day in the UK, and lately I’ve been missing my parents.

I’ve never been super close with my folks, to be honest, but as I’ve gotten older, we’ve managed to relate and support each other through various events, and with the things I’ve been going through lately, it would be nice to see them and get that support from them face-to-face, not just through e-mails.

It’s just the three of us, but my family life is still pretty complex. But I’m okay with it, and lately I’ve been quietly envious of friends who are able to pop down on the weekends to see their folks, or friends who groan about having to do stuff with their parents or family–particularly today with it being Mother’s Day.

Although I don’t think I’m particularly emotionally needy, with all the struggles I’ve been going through in trying to find work, I could really use one of those “It’s okay” talks from my pa. I could really use a couple hours of baking in my parents’ kitchen to make a cake for my ma that would make her happy. I could use some time with my folks. I could use some affirmation right now.

In lieu of that, I need to set aside some time to bake something. Whenever I’m this down, if I bake something and manage to pull it off really well, I always feel so much better. It’s as if I’m proving something to myself, particularly the darker side of me that feeds my doubts and insecurities like paper to a flame. When I bake something particularly well, or even when I write something I feel proud of, I feel a bit of affirmation and a sense of accomplishment.

Which is why it kills me when I don’t have the time nor money for ingredients to bake anything. Not just because I want cake or scones, but because it’s a source of comfort, especially when away from family and many good friends. It’s past mid-March and I’m feeling terribly anxious about things, primarily money. The quarterly bills for the gas and electric have arrived, and the effect is like a financial punch in the gut that knocks the wind out of you. I could use a lemon cake or a batch of brownies to console myself.

Weirdly, despite or perhaps because of my anxiety and fear of this London experiment failing in every possible way, my mind is crackling with metaphor and ideas. I suddenly feel as if I’ve got a great idea for a book, and I want to write some prototype bits for it on my food blog. I’ve been invited to some openings and events, again for my food blog, and I’ve been able to use some of my creative skills to write about these things. Even in walks throughout my neighbourhood in Stoke Newington, I’m continually inspired by so much.

I love walking.

Recently I walked around Nunhead cemetery with my friend, which was fantastic. I’m kicking myself for not bringing along my camera, although I was able to take a few pictures with my phone, which was handy when coming across something called “The Sorrowing Church and Congregation.”

Amazing. It sounds like some sort of name for an alt-country folk-gaze band. The sort of band that uses dulcimers with growling basslines and chaotic banjos.

The city continues to surprise me.


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