A Diminished Return

A short story:

Following a diminished return from my investment in myself, I have disappeared from society for about 4 months. I have made little progress getting through what I first thought was a small jab at my ego and what has now become a torrent of anxiety with a sprinkle of depression. My cooking has become top notch. The isolation which followed me cancelling my internet plan, data, cable. I have thrown my phone in a trash compactor, incinerated my computer, I don’t even know what is happening in the news. Who is the prime minister? I don’t even recognize the names of the people in my riding. All this to say, I can cook without judgement, this means my cooking has become absolutely the best it could be. Life has become a consistent breakfast, lunch, dinner of varying styles and palates with a trip to the grocery store about once a week. I have allowed myself a calendar to keep track of the days and one clock so I know what time it is. This is what I have keeping me going in this solitary life.

In between the moments of unrepented worry and failure I find myself reading. I’m not sure how many books I have read but the pile building across from my bookshelf has steadily grown where the bookshelf is about half empty, and I know so many things. So many fictitious stories, facts. I know people I’ve never even met and will never meet in my life so intimately. So many moments in their lives, internal thoughts of them, their victories and defeats. It feels nice to know them, I see myself in so many of them. I think this is another thing happening in my life keeping me going.

For the first time in my adult life, I have been able to have dinner with my parents again. They only come over to my house, I don’t want to go to theirs in fear of me seeing some reminder that the outside world is still going strong without me. What if I see someone I know, they moved on, I am a speck in a cloud, I cannot be seen. They are the reason why I know my cooking has really improved, and no they are not just saying it to make me feel better. I know my parents and trust me, I know when those guys are lying. I’ve seen it my entire life in the mediocre things I have done up until I betted on myself and I saw the real genuine approval I didn’t know I needed and then I was so impressive to a fault. So I know when they’re impressed, and they are impressed with this cooking. My relationship with them is better than it has been my entire life. To have a real adult conversation with my parents is an experience that is unmatched and I will be forever grateful for the moments they have gifted me, I see them bare without any mask of authority, without a wall separating the parent from the child. There was a small bit of that at the first few dinners, I was very bad and I didn’t have my shit together at all but once I got into this steady routine the wall came down. My parents are my friends and this is keeping me going.

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