I have a confession.

I didn't get around the sourdough trend of 2020. At the time I was living in what the real estate ad described as 'a cosy apartment with character', which roughly translates to 'kitchen bench space? You want functional kitchen bench space to cook meals for yourself? Ha, cute.'

Baking of any kind was simply not an option if I wanted to keep my sanity in check.

But now, sweet freedom, I have a kitchen that not only has plenty of room for food preparation, but also doesn't peer directly into my adjacent neighbour's shower. 

I am living the dream.

And thanks to some bananas which have been sitting in my fruit bowl for just enough time for them to turn the worst possible shade of brown, I was presented with the perfect opportunity to make up for lost time.

Flour, eggs, honey - assemble! Who's got two thumbs, seven almost-mouldy bananas and a brand new Jamie Oliver loaf tin? This gal. I was ready to unleash my inner baking bad-ass.

I was quietly confident as the warm, sweet scent of fresh banana bread wafted through the apartment. I am Nigella Lawson, I purred to my reflection in the oven door, watching my beautiful loaf rise like a glorious edible phoenix.

So imagine my horror as I turned out my freshly baked bread onto a plate, only for it to collapse from the inside.

Oh no, I gasped, watching raw cake dough spewing through the cracks like caramel-coloured lava. But it looked so good on the outside! Perfectly golden crunchy top, billowing out the top of the loaf pan like a fluffy marshmallow, only for it to be a complete mess on the inside. I felt betrayed.

And then I realised (stay with me...).

We're not all that different from banana bread, us humans (I said stay with me!).

How often do we look like we have it all together, only to feel like we're a total mess on the inside? We get so busy and distracted, we often forget to check in with our mental health - and ask ourselves, how are we, really?

I personally enjoy the metaphor of the swimming goose. Graciously gliding across a shimmering lake, only to be paddling furiously underneath the water like a wacky-waving-inflatable-arm-flailing-tube-man.

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As it turned out, with a little quick thinking and a few minutes being fried on the stovetop, my banana bread was a tasty darn morsel. Sure, it was a bit ugly now, but it was moist (apologies, 'damp' doesn't quite get the message across in the same way), sweet and damn delicious.

And so, I learnt an important message that day. You can feel like you're a hot mess on the inside and still be delicious, you gorgeous piece of banana bread, you. And that's it's a good reminder to check in on what's going on on the inside.

I also learnt the difference between the 'fan-forced' and the 'grill' button on my oven settings.