what am i gonna do?

“Don’t leave.” Iris’s voice is surprisingly firm. The next moment she’s in front of me, placing her two hands on my
shoulders, looking at me with her penetrating blue eyes.
“Samantha, you’ve had a trauma,” she says in kind, even tones. “And it’s affected you very deeply—”
“I haven’t had a trauma!” I wheel away, out of her grasp. “I just… I can’t do this, Iris. I can’t pretend to be this.
I’m not a bread maker, OK? I’m not a domestic goddess.” I look around the garden desperately, as though searching
for clues. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I have no bloody idea.”
A single tear rolls down my cheek and I wipe it away roughly. I’m not going to cry in front of Iris.
“I don’t know who I am.” I exhale, more calmly. “Or what my goal is… or where I’m headed in life. Or anything.”
My energy’s gone and I sink down on the dry grass. A few moments later Iris comes and squats down beside me.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says, her voice soft. “Don’t beat yourself up for not knowing all the answers. You don’t
always have to know who you are. You don’t have to have the big picture, or know where you’re heading. Sometimes
it’s enough just to know what you’re going to do next.”
For a while I let her words run through my head, like cool water on a headache.
“And what am I going to do next?” I say at last, with a hopeless shrug.
“You’re going to help me shell the beans for lunch.” She’s so matter-of-fact that I half smile in spite of myself.
-sophie kinsella, undomestic goddess

*poison_ivy: what am i gonna do next? hurmm...