In what way am I a disaster? I just tried to make a stir fry for myself and two friends, which I’ve done before, and in the process I spilt noodles all over the sink, got vegetables everywhere and made a massive mess. There was far too much of it for the three of us, I wolfed mine down out of relief that the ordeal of cooking it was over and then I had to endure ten minutes of watching them plough their way through twin piles of oily vegetables with the odd burnt noodle, all the while pretending that it was delicious.
So I can’t cook and I have lovely friends, you might say. This is not the case. I do have lovely friends but I can cook, and my failure so to do just now just ranks in my head as one more piece of evidence that I’m a really rubbish person. This probably isn’t true, but I can’t help believing it and right now, it feels like no one understands and, consequently, no one cares. It just doesn’t make sense to the average person that my internal monologue is weighted so that self-criticism is shouted, repeatedly and with anger and expletives to make sure I’ve got the idea, whereas any shred of the still small voice of calm that’s left is a whisper that, quite often, I can’t hear.
That’s how it is, though. Sometimes nothing helps, partly because it’s just easier to give up the pretence that I’m competent and nice and give in to the overwhelming majority in my head that dictates otherwise. If I don’t try and make myself feel better again then I won’t feel this crushing disappointment again when one little incident like this is enough to destroy the whole house of cards that is my self-esteem. If I hide from my friends I don’t have to admit my weaknesses to them. And in a way it’s just nice to be proved right – I am rubbish, I knew it, the congealed noodles are there for all to see. Given the choice, I wouldn’t care about me, and right now it would take a lot to persuade me that anyone else does either.
And of course in a few hours or a few days I’ll be fine again and I’ll wonder how I could feel like this and believe all these things, and why I made such a fuss about it all. It doesn’t seem worth talking to anyone about it when I know it will go away in its own time; hardly anything seems worth it right now.