You know, six months ago the feedback and ‘no’s from the MasterChef judges would have sent me into a tailspin of self doubt and hate.
The internal dialogue would have been along the lines of ‘I’m so humiliated’, ‘I’m hopeless’, ‘I knew it, I can’t really cook at all’, ‘they hated me’.
I would still be crying.
The internal dialogue is more along the lines of ‘GOD I hope I don’t look like an idiot’, ‘I wasn’t what they were looking for’, ‘I made the wrong sort of dish for the judges’

I realise know again just how debilitating that self doubt hate is.

Yesterday, the third day of the school year, saw the boys ride their bikes/scooters to school with me pushing Grover in the stroller.
I was joyous.
Sweaty but joyous.

Life, it is good.