I Am Not a Bread Maker

Dear Universe,

I’ve been considering learning how to make sourdough bread. I really enjoy eating sourdough bread. And maybe I would enjoy making it, too.

*Watches one YouTube video.*

Yeah, NOPE.

There’s a bit of a leap from wanting to eat bread and wanting to spend hours kneading and feeding and preheating and fuck it all.

That’s another skill to acquire another day.

But I’m realizing now there was something else hidden underneath that desire to learn to make bread.

It was a desire to be the kind of woman who makes sourdough bread. Because she’s really cool. I like her.

I know. That’s fucking ridiculous.

But when I zoom out, maybe I catch myself doing this weird identity grab with… everything.

If I can wrap my identity around a role or title or skill or hobby or habit, then I can better define who I am. Or something. I can have a “brand.”

The person I want to be does this and is that. And not only that, but she does this well and is that in the best way.

Which, yeah, backfires big time. I make how well I fit a role or do a task mean something about who I am.

If I “am” a writer and I’m not publishing or getting paid or receiving reactions to my words, that makes me a bad writer.

If I “am” a mom and I’m not staying calm or giving my kids everything I would want for them, that makes me a bad mom.

If I “am” a wife and my husband leaves, that makes me a bad wife.

And those are just the roles I’ve already attached to myself. There’s also the me I tell myself I should be.

The sourdough bread maker. The forest forager. The entrepreneur. The homeschooler. The partner. The insert something-er here.

I am not any of those things and could therefore draw the conclusion that I am a bad version of myself.

Total bullshit, right, Uni?

I realize now that those are just hats. Hats I think are pretty cool. But I can put them on or take them off. I’m not supposed to measure or define who I am by the frickin hats I wear.

I’m supposed to just be… Bailee.

Bailee writes. Bailee mothers. Bailee loves fiercely and commits to people she believes in. Bailee buys sourdough bread and fucks around making reels and changes her mind every three days.

I just am. Bailee is the only identity I need to have.

Everything else is just how I spend my time. How I fill my days and use my energy.

I don’t know, Universe. That’s probably quite the philosophical detour to make from the original thought of “wow I’d eat the shit out of some bread right now.”

But that’s how my brain works. Maybe you can add neurodivergent to the list of titles I’m shirking today.

Fuck it. All I want is some bread.

XO – Bailee

August 24, 2026