Although not officially diagnosed (or treated) I know I suffer from some pretty above average, ridiculous anxiety. I’m very OCD about things in a not “cute white girl” kind of way. Like the silverware in my drawer has to be arranged just so and taken out in FIFO otherwise I get very upset. Or tags on blankets have to be in the bottom right corner or else I get very uncomfortable.
So two weekends ago when we were making breakfast I went about it in my very methodical way when V told me I was going too slow. He wanted to get the food on to cook much faster than my ways would allow. I scrub all the vegetables. I peel them just so. I slice everything uniformly. It’s a slow process that I hate (because I’m hungry and I like spending more time prepping my food than eating it) but it’s just how I am.
Cue the knife being taken away from me. Like they say, if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen. I was basically forced out. So I sat at the breakfast bar watching the potatoes be hastily rinsed off and the onions (not even rinsed!) being roughly chopped. I had to look away to keep myself from crying. I had to eat dirty potatoes with random sized vegetables?
But here’s the thing I realized, internet. 30 minutes later I ate my bacon and eggs and potatoes and toast…and it all tasted the same as when I make it. Whether you’re careful and OCD like me or sloppy like V, the food is still going to come out just as tasty. You’re still going to eat. It’s still going into your belly.
So why worry so much about everything being perfect?
I don’t often quote verses on here but it reminded me of Matthew 6:27
“Can any of you by worrying add a single moments to your life?”