Do you find yourself baking? 

On Netflix all the time?

Cleaning? 

Tidying? 

Calendar full? 

Perfecting? 
Me?
I did a lot of cooking. 

Telling myself it was what I wanted to do. 

To make my family homemade food everyday. 

To make exotic, new-recipe-every-night type of food. 

Quinoa quiche, pumpkin chocolate brownies (which were divine), homemade paneer, spelt flour scones, tandoori paneer pizza – it was everyday awesome. So much food, there were days when I didn’t know what to do with it. 
If you ask me what it cost me. 

I would say. 

It cost me this. 

Getting more into my writing. 

Making it real. 
Because I’ve feared what making it real means. 

Does it make it commercial? Cause I don’t want you to hate all those hashtags. 

Does it make it financially viable, I’m scared to admit, one day, I want to make a living from this. It feels wrong to say, I want to make a living out of the emotional things I put out there. But I do. I love doing it and it feels good, so how can it not become something bigger? How can those talks, books and all that sharing I’ve dreamed of – become valuable. I would pay for a great read on a couch with a candle and a glass of tea. So why wouldn’t I pay for this?

But what I didn’t realise is that the fear was stopping me. 

Distracting me. 

I let cooking distract me (I’ve never been much of a tidier). 
Can I ask you this? 

Ask yourself – what do you really want? 

What do you want to PLUNGE into? 

Why can’t you do it? 

Do it now? 

Make it the priority? 

Make it the focus? 

And for once, just once, make THIS THING, all about YOU. 

Not about the kids, not about the bills, not about the man, not about the folks. 

YOU. 

Because when you look back, you can’t blame the cook-off. 
Xx

K