I find on many occasions that I’m doing what seems to be the base habits or behaviours of a young child with adult responsibilities. There’s nothing to be valued about cooking a meal, hanging up or folding some clothes, or just doing digital banking. Or at least the critic, and some well meaning friends or family think.

It’s no big deal.

Unless you compare it to the days where I can’t even get out of bed. But that’s being weak right?

The joy of not being enough.

P.s. I am terrified of hanging up the clothes. No idea why. Claustrophobia of sorts… The fabric touching me when wet… Afgsfdsadgds.