anxiety and banana bread

The amount of banana bread on my counter directly correlates to how angry I am.

Nothing soothes anger more than putting a couple of overly-ripe bananas in a bowl and mashing the crap out of them. I prefer to use a star shaped silicone meat tenderizer (usually used to evenly cook ground beef). You can hold it like a mighty sword — two-handed grip with the blade pointed down, ready to strike — and make those poor bananas pay for all the hurt they’ve caused, which I suppose is better than taking my anger out on another, undeserving, human being.

I was not prepared for how angry this safer-at-home time would make me. I’m angry that I have to work from home. I’m angry that my best friend had to cancel her wedding. I’m angry that I don’t get to see my work study students graduate. I’m angry at all the people who keep complaining they’re bored. The politicians. The protesters. I’m angry at lost time and the world in general.

I never thought I would ever live through a time like this. I thought the Trump administration was the worst thing I was going to have to tell my future grand kids (or more likely my nieces and nephews) about. Even in the middle of the fear and chaos of 9/11, at least we could see our enemy. And let’s be honest, war is something we know how to face and are fully prepared for.

If nothing else, I hope I personally, and society as whole, can learn from this pandemic and use our anger to make sure we are never this unprepared again.

And now to take the latest loaf of banana bread out of the oven.

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