Flat White And An Honest Post

WordPress has just congratulated me for six years of blogging. Which means I started the blog three years before I moved to Doha. When I was still living in the horrible, small apartment and when the blog was named orange shoes talking because I thought it was a cool name. And, I can tell you, rather shamefully, that even after six years of blogging, I write today like a beginner, like I haven’t got a clue about anything in life.

I had not prepared for this post but it’s straight from my heart. Intially, I was going to change the blog and start writing about topics that would be helpful to people who live in Doha. Despite being a good-intention and my inherent need of trying to help everyone I can, I can’t do it.

How can one help others if one can’t really help themselves?

I was doing alright last year, minding my own business, eating well, doing my thing. Then, I let myself get distracted, let my guard down, gained and lost some and now I have no idea what to do with myself.

I was going to make it into an advice blog, but how do I do that when I am the one who needs advice?

I knew I was bad but I didn’t know that I was in such a bad state till my best friend flew to Kenya for vacation. On account of not having a huge group of friends, I find it hard to be by myself. I find it hard to be alone. I find myself wanting someone to text me constantly. And I believe this is not healthy, for anyone. Maybe I let myself get distracted too far this time, I forgot how to be alone and be okay with it.

On weekends, I despise staying at home and I convince myself that I need that box of soymilk just to go to the mall where I buy things that will end up in the garbage or have a meal when I have just bought myself groceries. Yes, sometimes I use money to buy myself things to distract myself or to feel better, when really, I know better than that. Really, I know. And I still do it. What do you call a person who knows doing a certain thing is harmful but does it anyway? A fool?

I have got a bag of clothes that need to be donated that’s been sitting in my room for over a month. I promised myself that I would buy less, that I would quit coffee but I have had two flat whites today. Okay, ca va, it’s my only coffee cup after a month or longer of no coffee whatsoever. And though, I feel like I won’t go back to coffee because honestly, I have just lost the taste for it, I feel like I am stuck. Like, someone told me something beautiful and I got stuck. And I am not able to move on.

A while ago, I read the book Hygge and the author of the book either in the book or in an interview of his said something like the level of happiness is judged by people’s relationships (something along those lines). The more healthy relationships/friendships you have, the happier you are. Now, I am sure he did his research. And don’t get me wrong, I do have people who love me. Still, this hasn’t stopped me from feeling like an absolute pile of shite.

Also, can I just say, that when I said something along those lines, I have said it like Alex Turner, when he sings Miracle Aligner because I also have a need of stealing lyrics of Alex Turner and using them in actual conversations, even if the other person doesn’t get it? Oh, I’m such a hopeless case!

Sometimes, when one thing goes hay-wire in life, everything else goes too. Like, you let yourself get distracted, you go off your healthy diet, your face starts breaking out like never before, you heave a sad sigh every time you look at the state of your hair and sometimes you feel like crying for no reason. And you decide Pomme has got, possibly, the most heart-breaking voice accompanied with words that you hit you right in the core and you think to yourself, right, I am not listening to her again.

So given my state, I have come up with a plan to try and to become better again. I’ll use this as an online diary, even though now, I am very conscious about my posts. You see, I once gave a link of my blog to this guy and he completely butchered my self-esteem, saying it was just all over the place, there really was no theme, etc, etc. And I admit he was right, but instead of trying to correct it, I found a ‘better’ way and completely refused to touch the keyboard because every word I typed came with a whole lotta doubt.

I have been thinking about the Albert Camus quote a lot. ”Should I kill myself or have a cup of coffee?”. I have serious doubt to the authenticity of this quote, but I like to believe that he said it. Given that I absolutely adore him, of course, I would never think about going against his teachings and killing myself. Although, a few weeks ago when I was coughing and Carolina said ”Do you have corona virus?”, I actually thought about it and told her that at this point, it wouldn’t be so bad. But, then again, no suicide, like my mentor said. I must choose to have coffee, although metaphorically, at this point.

I will try, step by step, to become better. Writing it out will help, I am sure. And if it won’t, I don’t know what will.