I'm making chicken and dumplings for dinner. It's ridiculous to be as excited as I am, but honestly, if you could smell the simmer, full of garlic and sage and bay leaves, you would be excited, too. I love cooking so much. Almost as much as I love eating. Or maybe more. I'm a home cook, I know this. I am not gourmet in any way. But the things I cook can make people happy, and that's all I need. I mean, when I moved out of the previous house, two of our friends specifically requested recipes of mine, because they loved the things I made! Food is one of my love languages. I'm like a typical Asian mom! My first question is, "Have you eaten," and then, "What do you want to eat?" I feel so at-home in a kitchen. I can do simple wine or cocktail pairings; I can make a multi-course meal without breaking a sweat; I can even make a gumbo with a naturally-browned roux! I'm not good at baking or desserts, probably because that's not the type of food I like to eat as much, but I can do it if I have to. I don't have to, though, because Talia and Emily are both amazing in the patisserie, and can make bread so delicious that even I eat several slices of it. I like carbs, but mostly rice, potatoes, and sometimes pasta/noodles. Baked goods are hard for me to eat (we never do completely move past the anorexia fear foods, do we?) I've never liked bagels or muffins or things like that, and since I'm not fond of sweets, most desserts are hard to eat as well. Take me to a sushi restaurant, or to dim sum brunch, and I'll eat your whole bank account. But in a bakery, I'm the asshole who's lame and only buys a coffee. I think another problem is that I'm physically not very large, so it's hard to fit much food into me. When I go out to eat, I usually can't finish my portion, even if I'm drinking (alcohol and weed make me eat more than usual). I pretty much never finish a bag of chips, either (unless it's Takis). Sad as it is, I love food, but I can't eat very much of it at one time.

Let me just say how much I love my friends! Kate is the sweetest and most hilarious, and is the same personality type as me (vive les ENFPs !) and we get along really well. When we were in the same country, we had so many fun times, and we even drove to LA and didn't even listen to music because we were too busy talking for the entire four hours it took to get to our friend's apartment (traffic was bad). We both drive manual transmission and prefer it, so we bonded over that as well, and she never made fun of my driving habits (I tend to speed, and get lost if Siri hesitates for even a second). I think we have such a wholesome, healthy, wonderful friendship. She's gotten me through some bad times, and I love her so so much. Talia and I call each other "brother" (it sounds silly, but it's helpful, because as I'm nonbinary, I don't quite like being "sister"), and Kate is one of the few people who is also a "brother" for us (we also have Emily, Cece, and Kitty). Of course, we've known each other for years and years (probably since 2014), but we really bonded when I was in the sober-living facility. Even in the hardest of times, she was there, opening up her kitchen to me! And then we drank and smoked and danced and ate and sang and played video games, and we became so close, and she was the second person (after Talia) whom I asked to be in my bridal party when Emily proposed! I literally love her so much!

It's sort of this love for my friends that makes me ambivalent about staying in the UK. My visa has been withdrawn, and I need to either change it or leave, and even though I've applied to change it for another visa, I might have to go back to America. And of course I don't want to go! Emily is here, and I have friends here, and there's healthcare and cheap groceries and alcohol, and I really do like it here. But I miss Talia and my friends and my family, and weed and Takis and chili lime picante shrimp cup noodles, and I honestly wouldn't mind going back for a little while. And I don't want to say anything about it, because I don't want Emily to feel guilty, like she's keeping me here. It's not that! I made the choice to move here, and I've never regretted it even for an instant. I just miss America. I'm trying not to feel too guilty about that, because I don't think it's unusual for someone to miss their home country, but I feel disloyal in a way, like I'm betraying everyone here by wanting to go back. It's not that I want to stay there! I just want to visit a little bit, and maybe get high a few times, and eat some Cheez-Its (which, can you believe those don't exist here?) and see my loved ones. And I want Korean barbecue and dim sum and proper sushi and call me crazy, but even the 405, and I want to see people and play with their pets! I just want Emily to be there with me at the same time. The other thing is that while I'm here, I can't work or volunteer, and I feel so useless. I told my job about my visa situation, and they of course can't have me working there without proof of my legal right to be here, so I'm on hold with that, and I guess I need a charity visa if I want to do volunteer work, which is weird to me, but basically, I'm not doing anything useful. If I went back to America, I could work a little bit until my visa was processed and build up some income for when I come back. I think it's the best option, only I don't know how long it would take, and how easy it would be to get my visa. It might take a few months. I haven't heard back from the Home Office yet, and I understand that processing is probably pretty slow right now, but it's stressing me out, and it's so hard to make plans when everything is up in the air like this. I just looked up airline ticket prices for later this month, and they're not bad, although I would have to have a ten-hour layover in Boston, and that's not so ideal. Flying is just really not fun at all, and I'm not looking forward to the prospect, but if I have to, then I have to, and there's no point in being miserable about it. I have to be strong, because Emily is pretty broken-up about this. Lord knows I don't want to be deported either, but I have to keep a stiff upper lip. I must say, that's very British of me.

One good thing is that I'm doing so much better than I was before, even compared to a year ago. I'm not doing great, not gonna lie, and I still probably really need therapy. Also, when I don't take my medication, I'm pretty much non-functional. But at least I don't think about death constantly anymore, and I can stay awake for more than eight hours a day. It's small, slow steps towards progress, frustrating and embarrassing, but I'm doing my best, and I think that's all I could ask of myself. I have to be patient and kind. I mean, I've come out of a really bad place, and I think I deserve some grace. 

That's not to say I'm not scared of the future anymore. I am. I'm terrified. But I think there's not so much point in sitting around, paralyzed, not doing anything to make the life I want for myself. That's what I did before. I ruined my life, and maybe there's no way of getting it back, but at least I can try to make a better future. 

I'm eating leftover chicken and dumplings for lunch, and it's delicious! I really did good with this recipe. If I'd had the right ingredients, I think it would be even better, but even so, it's super tasty. I slow-cooked some chicken thighs in broth with some seasonings (garlic, onions, sage, bay leaves, rosemary, chili flakes, salt, and black pepper), and added potatoes and celery (the only veggies I had on hand LOL) once they were cooked through. By the time the potatoes were done, the chicken was soft, so I shredded it, and added it back to the broth. I had a can of cream of chicken soup kicking around in the cabinet, so I added that, cutting it with milk, sprinkled a bit of nutmeg (I'm a firm believer in nutmeg and/or cinnamon for creamy dishes) and made some quick drop biscuits to pop on top of the mixture. I steam/simmered those for about twenty minutes, dished it up, and topped it with parsley. The starch in the potatoes and biscuits (plus the thickener in the canned soup) made it just thick enough that I didn't have to add a slurry or anything. It turned out well, if I do say so myself, although I should have added more baking powder to the biscuits, because they were a little heavy. All in all, it was a comforting and easy meal for a rainy Saturday night!

Today, I need to do some housework. I need to tidy the kitchen and do laundry, and the bathroom could stand some cleaning as well. It seems like adulthood is just so full of cleaning! Part of me enjoys it, and part of me hates it with a passion. Still, I think I hate it a little less than Emily does, so I'm happy to do my part. I do the cooking; she does the baking, I talk to people; she deals with gross stuff. It's a good system, and it works well. Introverts are funny, though. I sort of understand, because my anxiety used to manifest as fear in dealing with strangers, and I still worry about the people I love deciding that they don't like me anymore, but I think it's different for genuine I-types. They just actually, legitimately don't want to be around people. I mean, they don't even like parties! Granted, some parties suck, but there's nothing like a good one, vibing with the crowd, meeting new people, connecting more deeply with people you already know, laughing over jokes that turn into serious, soul-baring discussions and back to jokes again, checking your phone the next day to find four new Instagram followers and seven tagged photos, one of which is inevitably super ugly, but you save it anyway... ah, yes. There's truly nothing like it! Social interaction just feels nice. Now that I live in town and lockdown is lifted, it's easier to go outside when I'm feeling upset and just walk around because being around people, even strangers whom I don't talk to, automatically lifts my mood and makes me feel more stable. I feel like a bit of a weirdo sometimes, because most of my friends are introverts, and we recharge differently. Like, for Talia's last birthday, I arranged with everyone that she and I would have a "sister day," and we hung out in her apartment, just the two of us, and a buttload of takeout, wine, and drugs. She didn't have to talk to anyone, even while planning it, and she said it was a nice birthday, and of course I had fun too, but my idea of the perfect birthday would involve much more dancing and taking shots with strangers, so it was interesting to see the disparity. We're very similar, but in a lot of ways, we're complete opposites, too. I guess that's part of why we get along so well. I love her so much, and I'm so glad that I was lucky enough to be born as her sibling!