I Was Never Meant to Be a Diamond; Being Under Pressure Gives Me Fear-Farts

 

The title of this piece is one of the many random thoughts I’ve had pertaining to the wrap of this weird and wonderful year of our lord, 2022.

As far as headlines go, there is no further explanation required. If you disagree and/or are angrily confused by this vague and meaningless title, then I’m sorry to say but you will hate the rest of this listicle.

But you may as well read on because now I’ve hooked you with this incredibly well written introduction.

Please enjoy.

Will this mushroom medley kill me?

I am whipping up a batch of mushroom soup for an easy New Year’s Eve dinner when I pull out the carton of mushrooms I had purchased at the Walmart a few days before.

It’s a mushroom medley; included in the small blue container are cremini, oysters, white buttons and a few other varieties.

My mind wanders as I’m sautéing the diced stems with onions and garlic. I imagine the young chap hired to sift through mossy forest floors, foraging for the fungi I am currently crafting into soup.

Wait. How much training does this guy have?

Does he know that what he’s picking is, in fact, the safe mushrooms on his picking list for the day?

Because once upon a time, I, too, was a mushroom picker. I sold my goods to a weird hippy lady who lived on the outskirts of the woods. She had a pet bobcat that was chained up outside her front door and would give me the stink eye every time I trundled up the driveway with a sopping wet bucket of shrooms in my clutches.

I know how easy it is for an idiot to mistake an edible mushroom for a poisonous one. I used to make that mistake daily!

What if a poisonous mushroom slipped by the vetting process and now is simmering away in my homemade soup? What if I make myself direly sick by simply taste-testing this thing? What then?!

But oh, how the rich smells of soup waft through this house. I can’t deny my watering tastebuds.

So, I’ll have to take my chances.

I remove at least 3 F-bombs from every story I write.

It seems excessive, I know. But I LOVE swearing. It’s my favourite pastime. Sometimes, when I’m sitting alone in my living room reading a book, and I realize I haven’t heard my own voice for a while, I’ll just softly moan, “Fuuuuck,” just to get it out of my system.

That’s normal, right?

But remember, kids, not all people love the fuck-word, so always edit your work and remove excessive fucks because there’s nothing more heinous than an unnecessary fuck where a fuck needn’t be.

That’s probably the truest sentence I’ve ever written.

Probably an unpopular opinion:

Third-person present tense is my favourite POV to read. I only say this may be an unpopular opinion because I’ve heard a lot of guff about the present tense lately.

Which means I’m in real trouble, man.

Things I was afraid of at the beginning of 2022 but am no longer afraid of.

  • Feeling feelings — I cry all the time now, and it’s incredible; you gotta try it!
  • Driving into the oil change place — It’s actually really difficult to drive directly into the mechanic’s hole thing.
  • Talking on the phone. Look, I still hate to talk on the phone but now, when appointments need to be made, or I see someone calling me rather than texting, it doesn’t send me into an all-out panic attack.
  • Zombies — I used to be afraid of a zombie apocalypse because the thing about zombies is they just don’t give up. They are relentless in their quest for brain fodder because they, obviously, have no brains. I don’t know what cured me of this fear, but I can once again watch TV and movies about zombies without peeing my pants at night, overthinking what I’d do if a zombie showed up in my room, like, right now.

So, you won’t be hearing from me for the next 6 weeks because I’ll be binging the entire Walking Dead series so I can talk about zombies intelligently in polite society.

My two favourite books of 2022 were:

The Reading List by Sara Nisha Adams

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

I read both books in the last weeks of December — proving that my favourite book is always the last book I’ve read.

2022 taught me that you’ll never regret asking for help.

I sought out therapy this year, which was the greatest gift I’ve ever given myself.

My 2023 gift to myself is hiring an editor for my upcoming essay collection, I’m Not the Manager Here because I FINALLY understand the importance of investing in oneself!

Look at all those breakthroughs’ bitches!

Despite the difficulties, 2022 was a learning and growing year. I cried more than I think I’ve ever cried in my entire life.

But I also laughed the kind of laughs that are big and ugly and completely real.

And finally, I was honoured to make others laugh as well.

This post was previously published on it’s just foam.

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