One More Cup of Coffee Before I Go

Anyone who knows me knows that I don’t have a materialistic bone in my body. I’m very sentimental and keep dog-eared drawings in my wallet and paper mâché jewellery in a drawer from many moons ago. I cherish things that are dear to me and like to surround myself with beautiful objects, but I’m not really attached to any ‘thing’ no matter the price. To say I waited years to buy a SMEG electric kettle is not an understatement, and I was overjoyed when I picked one up on a Black Friday special. The pastel green beauty was a piece of art that sat proudly on my kitchen counter, and made me happy to lay eyes on it every morning, bringing joy to me while lovingly making my morning coffee.

Disappointment prevailed when it wouldn’t do it’s usual boil. I frantically googled reviews and found slight comfort in the fact that others had experienced the same demise. Should I replace it? Get the same colour? Maybe go cream? Any on special? Did I really want to spend THAT much money on a kettle? Carts filled with a cream one, stainless steel, black is nice, should I go red. And then it hit me. This wasn’t about the kettle at all, and replacing it for the exact same thing was not the option. I thanked it for the joy it brought me, bought a decent replacement, and put it away in the storeroom. Yip, I’m that sentimental.

Lo and behold, it wasn’t balanced properly and on opening the storeroom later, it fell to the ground and part of the lid broke off. Without hesitation, I ripped the remaining fragment off, broke off the electric socket, and, viola…. my piece of art became a beautiful vase for my small balcony. I was content that I would still be able to look at it everyday and enjoy what it made me feel.

I was pleased when my new kettle arrived on schedule and filled it up as instructed to boil. Nothing. Nada. No freaking way! Huh, what are the odds of that? I tried it in a different outlet, and the sound of water starting to boil brought confusion as I felt sucker punched in the stomach with the realization that maybe there had been nothing wrong with the SMEG after all. I desperately tried to remember if I had tried another outlet. Why didn’t I check it properly? Stupid. What if I didn’t tell anyone? Stupid. Why didn’t I pack it away better? Stupid. How could I be so stupid? Stupid. It was an honest mistake. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I was overcome with shame.

Voices scolded, chided, berated me. I wanted to pretend the whole thing never happened, never tell anyone how stupid I had been, but this time was different. I knew that if I didn’t voice this feeling, if I didn’t name it, I would allow it to consume me and have power over me for who knew how long. I know that rabbit hole all too well.

I called my friend who so tenderly listened, held space, and offered the idea that maybe it is a bigger lesson, a bigger picture here that we don't know. My darling daughter wanted to fix the problem by all chipping in for an early birthday gift. But I knew this was about something more than just a kettle.

We all make mistakes. We all have our own ideas. We all have our own beliefs, thoughts, opinions.

How often I drive cursing under my breath, and even aloud, about how stupid someone is. Don't you know how to drive asshole? Where the fuck did you get your license? Do it right! Do it perfect! Right by whose standards, perfect by which pedestal? This is the message I have been taught and therefore telling myself all these years. Seriously it’s fucking exhausting.

I am not perfect and neither are you. I own my imperfections. There is room for mistakes and they are mine to make. It takes a lot of courage to speak our truth. Name calling is rampant on social media when there is a difference of opinion or belief system. Isn’t enough that we do it to ourselves? We have no right to name call or belittle or demean because one doesn't fit our box. Let's stop bullying ourselves and each other.

The breaking of the kettle was a lesson in empathy to myself. It was another small step forward in the journey of living my most authentic self. I no longer need to hide my mistakes for fear that I’m not perceived as worthy in your eyes. I no longer need to pretend that I am perfect.

The pastel green beauty now sits proudly on my small balcony and makes me just as happy to lay eyes on it every morning, bringing joy to me while lovingly sipping my first cup of coffee.