Going in Granddad’s shed feels different these days. Ever since I’ve known that A LOT of people might be actually watching my vlog, I’ve felt a bit more pressure. Messages. Notifications. Lovely Gracie at school giving me a sentence-by-sentence critique of every vlog I do.
I still love doing it, though. This is the place where I can be most “me.” It’s like a massive dose of concentrated Millie Mountain Dew in the big glass of my life.
Note to me: I am not a soft drink. I am actually a spoon.
I sit on Granddad’s old chair and tap RECORD.
Hello! Millie here without Dave. She’s currently eating my dinner. Which is sort of what I want to talk about. Hashtag Help show me how to share your lunch with your cat THE RIGHT WAY! Sometimes being a human is hard. I think cats actually have it really easy. Dave does. I make her breakfast for her. I get her gourmet tuna treats and never tell her that her breath stinks—even though it does. Badly. I style her fur every day. I check her for ticks. I don’t have to do this for any other living soul in my life. In fact I’m sure if I started checking my mum for ticks she’d be pretty furious.
Anyway, eating is harder than you think. I found this out today when I was so busy worrying about stuff that’s going on in my life that I actually ignored my mouth. It’s nice stuff, too. It’s just new and I don’t do new very well. Because of all this, my cat stole my hot dog. Dave actually twirled it around her head like a majorette. No, my mum didn’t record it. That’s because she’s a mum.
But to make sure I can eat properly again I’ve been using a thing my mum does that helps my brain stop “catastrophizing.” Or CAT-tastrophizing, where you think the worst AND Dave does some semi-evil feline thing.
Basically, I concentrate on the FACTS. As you can see, my granddad’s shed is a bit … (I try to find a nice way of saying it) shabby chic. This is a fact. However, my catastrophizing worry brain says, “Granddad’s shed is shabby chic.” THEN it says, “OH MY GOD is this shed SO shabby that it’s full of germs and is it also full of asbestos? And will that get in my lungs and am I breathing it in now and should these be fumigated by professionals TO SAVE MY LIFE?” … and any food I might try to eat just gets forgotten because my head is exploding.
When that happens, I just go back to the facts. Granddad’s shed is a bit shabby chic and has a bird calendar in it that my cat likes to eat. And I STOP and I go do something else. And HONESTLY, that is it. I don’t always manage it. That’s why I lost my sausage—but I’m trying. And when it works, it just helps me through. And I can finish any meal without becoming a total spoon.
Anyway, thank you for watching. Leave any comments, and I’ll see you next time.
And I put my thumb up at the end. I have no idea why I do this.
As I upload it, Lauren messages me.
Mills. Need to CU. Come around. Plse