Love Bites: Porridge For One

Aged 29 and bossing life, I wrote a letter to another me – aged 27, with a broken heart. “Don’t worry queen, you're gonna find a caring sweet guy off Hinge, who will love you. Instead of leaving you alone right now with an empty kitchen, and a box of porridge as your only source for dinner, he’s gonna help you paint those kitchen cabinets and make new memories instead.” I’d have never believed that back then. I remember that person – zero boundaries and self-worth. Eager for love and not loving myself enough. 

I can’t stand porridge. The sight of it makes my stomach twist. I get queasy thinking about it, even writing about it. I do, however, love how I reclaimed my power while eating the bland stuff. March 2022, a break up; not eating, not sleeping, sinking into my duvet and watching old episodes of Sex and the City and once again feeling defeated by my dating choices. I remember eventually getting out of my bed, looking at the almost-empty porridge box and bursting into tears. It was the only thing I'd make him in the morning. 

Something snapped in me, and this beast took over. I took the last sachet, making a bowl and after the last ravenous bite I said, "My porridge now, bitch.” That moment forever sits with me, a small act that gave Goldilocks a run for her money. 

Two years on, I’ve swapped porridge for avocado toast, shared with my wonderful new partner. Whilst I still don’t love the stuff I can, however, love that porridge somehow gave me a single moment to start loving myself again.