When I turned 24 in September 2017, I was ecstatic. I had only just quit my full time job and decided to spend time studying food photography and growing the blog. I felt free and fresh. I even baked my own birthday cake for the first time. Up until then I always had store-bought birthday cakes bought by family. I decided that I needed to treat myself to a homemade cake every birthday, like I would my friends and family. So, I baked a Honey Butter Cake… and forgot to post the recipe!
But my year of creativity quickly went south, with a tumble of horrible events and I found myself in a really bad place. Depression, that I had wrenched myself free of in my teens, returned. And I found myself going from one day to the next constantly trying to pipe down the negativity brewing in me. Somewhere in the mix, anxiety took shelter in my mind. It was a terrifying combination, coupled with fear of wasting my time and not earning. I had no routine, zero productivity, and as the days went by I became harder on myself.
It wasn’t until March 2018 that I was finally able to establish a routine. I positioned myself at my desk for 5 days of the week, dividing my time between working on blog content, pushing myself to study food photography (I’ve always loved studying!) and reading. I set small goals – writing a certain number of blog posts in the year (achieved!), reading 30 books before the end of the year (I’m reading book #26 at the moment!) and writing for myself (I still struggle with this, but I do it as often as I can). Slowly, I realized that being productive makes me happy. Truly happy.
In September 2018 I turned 25. And this Tiramisu Cake is what I baked for myself. This gorgeous, delicious, incredible Tiramisu Cake. I spent two days making it. And though it didn’t go exactly according to plan, the end result was beautiful, rustic and in no way perfect – just like me at 25. I spent the morning of my birthday photographing this cake. And when I was done, I took a moment and realized that I had never before thought about what it would be like to turn 25. Half way through my 20s, and well on the way to my 30s.
I started this blog post the next day, on 28 September, but as I wrote, I decided I needed more time to take stock of all that had happened the past year, and what I’ve learnt… So here I am, at the end of 2018, the year I began living intentionally.
I have no inspiring story of how I beat depression. I haven’t. I still live with it and probably will for a long time. But I found that setting small goals helped me focus. I found that rekindling my love for reading opened me up to several worlds I’ve never lived in and brought me face to face with the inner goings-on of the minds of different writers and storytellers. Which in turn made the inner goings-on of my mind seem not-so-intimidating.
And through being productive, and actually doing what I set out to do back in 2017, albeit a year later, the heavy cloud above me has shrunk. I feel lighter, more purposeful and I’m happy.
This year has been a game-changer for me. And turning 25 has meant finally being at peace with who I am. I now appreciate every moment, every hug, every kiss, every tear and every curveball too. I don’t have it all figured out. I don’t know for sure where I’m headed. I just know that I can never go back to living the way I used to, with my head down and hustling. I want to live intentionally. Fully aware. Fully present. As I have for the last year.