Taking a Break From What I Love (and Secretly Hate)

As a teenager who is on the brink of undergoing what will probably be known as the most significant and meaningful change in her life, it is fair to say that I've been increasingly getting used to my new found friend, Change, since this wacky journey into adolescence began when I morphed into a teenager over two years ago. From saying goodbye to my two beloved childhood cats within six months to adopting a pair of rescue kittens, introducing new family pets alone has helped to define my strength and alerted my senses to what I'm capable of doing - such as getting through the day when I all but feel like crying my eyes out - when no other choice is available.

To add to my pile of changes (rather like a basket filled to the brim with dirty laundry), this year has already signified the greatest change which I've always wanted, yet created a massive upheaval as I got my up-in-the-air head around what had quite frankly came out of the blue - regardless of past experiences, life doesn't necessarily suit your circumstances, which has become somewhat of a well-known fact to me!

But despite continuing to struggle gaining a full eight hours of pure bliss in my bed four weeks on from The Big Move, I'm happy nonetheless with my progress towards rebooting an existence which is greatly in favour with my interests and answers all of the prayers which I've made (though a cure for my crossed-tight finger is unlikely to be discovered just yet) over the years. In other words, I'm finding it easier to take my mind off the initial shock of moving to the place of my dreams as each day passes, albeit being forced to scrub my en-suite shower probably plays a bigger role in this practice that you might initially believe.

As for my little brother, whose fascination with the foul-mouthed characters in South Park has exploded into a type of Kenny-induced madness of late, I'm proud to say that he likes his new home as much as I do, which he has been using as a motive of dragging me to the nearby park almost every (hot. hot. hot!) afternoon. Well, LB has to burn off the bar of dark chocolate I handed over to him for lunch at a time or another - and kicking a grubby football in the direction of some steely-eyed dogs seems to be the only way to go about it!

Yet, as I sink into the warm embrace of my bed for another morning round of blogging mania, I question whether I have gotten too comfortable with certain things present in my everyday life. These items or practices in question have usually be associated with inducing bucket loads of pleasure in the past - a thrilling sensation which I automatically crave to experience once the moment has passed - but something niggling at the back of my mind suggests that, although they have a tendency to bring elation to my life, their ability to lift my spirits may be wearing off. By what exactly? The ultimate joy-killer, as I like to call it: routine.

Ah, have you ever wondered why dining out at a fancy restaurant every once in a blue moon provokes a squeal of excitement to slip out of your Chanel Rouged lips, the prospect of doing something as rare as a blue diamond too exciting for words? It needn't take the likes of a Mensa member to translate the meaning of this lobster-related madness because, once contemplated, it makes plenty of sense: we achieve joy by indulging in whatever we appreciate with a heartfelt passion on a rare occasion, enabling us to savour the moment and look forward to doing it again in the future.

For example, I relished each second that I spent piling tiny spoonfuls of a chocolate-flavoured pot of Devon ice cream (in the south-west of England, Devon produces the best milk and cream, which makes their authentically made treats more delightful) in a countryside farm shop because I hadn't had access to doing such a thing since I was a young child, and the fact that I was with my mum and dad made the moment more poignant because I used to associate this small, yet decadent tubs of ice cream with embarking on various trips to cafés with them. The ice cream itself melted on the tip of my tongue - yet another reason why I watch too sultry culinary adverts on TV - and earnt a sigh of satisfaction as I reached the end of the tub, but the reminder of my ice cream-devouring childhood was the sweetest flavour of all.

And, like all junk food-loving teenagers, I felt an urge to buy another tub and poke my fingers into it on the journey home, but I realized that I would lose sight of its significance if I gave into my instincts which have definitely had wiser moments. Enjoying something, regardless of whether it is destined to spend a lifetime on my hourglass-shaped hips, as a rare treat will forever remain a treasure throughout my life, but a small, yet powerful part of myself feels as though I have overindulged in what used to be my all-time loves of late. This feeling, rooted deep inside my instincts, cannot be buried in the sand and ignored as I continue to contribute to what this so-called part of myself deems as a problem - and, staying true to my title as a Modern (half-crazed) Teen, I set to seek whatever is causing this stomach-churning trouble.

In this day and age, it is often too easy to restrain ourselves from what we love most as the accepted behaviour for the majority of society has significantly changed for the most recent generations, allowing a sense of informality to take centre stage in place of maintaining a certain level of self-restraint. Although I have no interest in delving into the worrying topics of obesity and crime - both current problems in modern day society - being blessed with the brain of a genius wouldn't be necessary to associate the fine, yet noticeable line between holding back from our instincts and giving into our wants which, from keeping a steady eye on the latest diet to clenching your teeth in anger, could be determined as a main cause for the many dilemmas faced in the 21st century and humanity in general.

Sometimes, we can find it extremely difficult to distinguish what we want and what we need, yet we don't often think twice about indulging in our wants instead of fulfilling our wants - doesn't life seem such a breeze whenever all of our wishes have come true? So, I may think that a bar of chocolate is necessary to controlling my so-called 'hunger pangs', but my intelligence needn't be questioned when it comes to recognizing what I really, really want (The Spice Girls were onto a chart-topping single there): if my heart leaps at the thought of having it, then I'll do all I can to get my hands onto it!

Perhaps age will mature me in many ways which I never believed were possible, but placing your entire faith in a probable, though unconfirmed destiny may result in scowling my face into a spine-chilling grimace sometime later. What with so much going on in my life - unpacking a big house and finding a school, to say the least - would it truly hurt me if my passion for richer-than-my-pocket-money-fund chocolate came alive for five minutes? Probably if it was a rare treat, but I would hardly deem my recent cocoa consumption as anything except rare; for almost a week, I've been picking and devouring pieces from my Easter egg and Lindt bunny every single evening.

Although the few seconds where the chocolate melts on my tongue is very sweet and evokes a burst of pleasure, I automatically pile unbearable guilt (probably along with weight, though I have hastily steered clear of the scales for several months) onto myself as soon as I finish, and it follows me around until the cycle starts again the following evening, dispelling the previous night's shame whilst creating another round of red-faced embarrassment. As you are probably wondering, just why do I keep devouring chocolate like there is no tomorrow when it guarantees a 24 hour round of guilt to follow shortly afterwards? In a way which you might understand, breaking a habit could very be the hardest thing which humans do throughout life, and busting my cocoa obsession isn't set to be an easy mission either. But the moment when I know that enough is enough and the cycle must be permanently broken is about to reach boiling point, so perhaps an outburst of chocolate-detesting madness is mandatory towards appreciating it once again. Let's hope the sole remaining Easter bunny doesn't get smashed in my short-lived moment of anger!

As I have now realized, loathing what I used to enjoy with a feverous passion may be the key towards restoring my appreciation for whatever I might be getting too much of, and it doesn't hurt if I take a back seat from various interests for a while. For several days, my imagination had dried up because I couldn't think of a single thing to write about on my blog, but now I'm revelling in my revitalized energy and am bursting with topics to discuss - a break always does the trick, even if it doesn't involve a ten night stay in a five-star hotel! Tonight will bring an end to my chocolate-obsessed demons, along with helping my eggs (the cocoa-flavoured ones, of course) and bunnies last a while longer; sadly, it seems that all the Easter stock has entirely disappeared in the shops!

The weekend is just around the corner, so placing my attention far away from Ofsted reports (more on that in the future) shouldn't require much effort at all! Now is the time to discover the true meaning behind taking a break, but I hope that I won't get too used to having them on a regular basis - otherwise, what would be the point of enjoyment?