Cinnamon Rolls and Self-Worth: An Essay With a Life Update at the End
Cinnamon rolls are my favorite dessert to bake. The smell of autumn wafting through my kitchen and into all corners of the house, the contrast of fluffy dough with a crispy edge, and whipped cream cheese frosting are a delight. Cinnamon rolls are decadent and rich at the same time. I savor each bite and find joy in sharing my baked creations with loved ones.
But it’s not just the result that makes cinnamon rolls my favorite—it’s the process. They are not quick, efficient, or easy. Committing to making them means setting aside hours to let the dough rise, once after it’s made, and another time after it’s been rolled. And my goodness, the rolling might be the best part. I love when my hands are covered in flour as it coats surfaces like snow. Flattening the dough and rubbing it in butter, cinnamon, and sugar is slow, exciting, and inviting.
Both the process and product bring me joy—each stage reminds me I can make this. From scratch!
If I could put “cinnamon roll maker—from scratch!” on my resume I would, and honestly who’s stopping me? Linkedin posts reminding Gen Z to keep it professional? Instagram reels teaching you how to translate your normal language into corporate speak? Or simply the voice in my head asking why on earth I’m thinking about cinnamon rolls when I have a career I need to kickstart, it’s go time, keep hustling?
I’ve always been an accomplisher. I’m the girl with to-do lists, three separate planners, and emails scheduled to send at 8 am on a weekday morning. As a recent college graduate with a laundry list of accomplishments (graduated summa cum laude, two years as a PR intern, three on-campus jobs, and former editor-in-chief of the university literary journal), being on the job search was disheartening. All of a sudden it felt like no one cared what I did before. The on-campus work experience somehow wasn’t enough. Internal candidates were selected before job postings got taken down. No matter how meticulously I framed each cover letter to match a job posting, like a craftsman customizing a wooden trinket, my words often got tossed aside into the slush pile of letters from other recent hard working graduates who, just like me, were waiting for an opportunity to finally arise. Often I felt like no matter how much I did or how much I continued to do, it still wasn’t enough. Like a camel walking through the eye of a needle, finding a job in general in 2025 seems hard, let alone one that provides meaning, purpose, and more accomplishment.
As a creative writer, I’m used to rejections from journals who say thanks, but this poem’s not for us. As a hopeless romantic, I’m used to the guys who inspire said poetry to “not be ready for a relationship.” But as a star student, I’m not used to being turned down for work. With every “we’re sorry, we’re going with another candidate email” it felt like my self-worth was a vase slowly chipping. It became harder to think straight, and frequently I wondered what am I doing wrong? To have done all the right things—the grades, extracurriculars, internship, networking—and end up with doors slammed in my face everyday for seven months bruised me emotionally.
Growing up in Christian circles I often heard from a young age that Jesus is the bread of life. That He nourishes you unlike anything else can. What they don’t tell you is that bread takes time to rise. It requires slowness and patience, and any good baker will argue it should be made with love.
Placing my value in landing a job after four very intense years of college felt like evaluating a cinnamon roll’s capacity to bake before rising. The rise is nonnegotiable.
I’ve examined my own fast paced nature and the pressure to perform perfectly. I was often told to do well in high school, go to a good college, get an internship while you’re there, definitely make connections, get a job, climb the corporate ladder, etc. I was awarded for excellent leadership, trying new things, doing sports, extracurriculars, and honors classes all at once. How does she juggle it all? While many of the activities I did throughout high school and college were fun and contributed to my personal growth, the magnitude of it all often felt like an addiction. Never enough, so keep adding more. Now, in the depths of hustle culture, a crumbling economy, and our culture’s obsession with building wealth, I find myself questioning my drive to constantly do and be more.
To me the best things come with time, love, and patience, so why should I treat myself any other way?
The fact that I exist is enough. Being able to make something with my hands, give it the attention required, and feel proud of creating something as delicious as cinnamon rolls is my reminder that I was created to create, whether that be dessert or poetry.
Some of the things I create aren’t tangible, though. Checking in with a friend, complimenting a stranger’s intricate tattoo (then asking if there’s a story behind it), and knowing the barista’s name. These things don’t get recognized as reasons why you should hire me, but my self worth and answers to interview questions are not correlated. My character is where my worth stems from, not my job. A job is transactional, human connection is not.
Kneading dough is the activity that makes me feel most present. The upward lift of the dough in my hands, flattened against the surface, up again, down again. There is no reason to speed up the process—I’ve never tried, but I doubt the results are good. There is no reason to minimize the dough for its necessity to rise. Every part of the process is intentional, from mixing, to rising, to rolling, to spreading cinnamon and sugar, to rising again, to baking, to topping it all with cream cheese. Every bite is worth it, and even if it wasn’t, I’d still enjoy each step. And at the end of it all, there is an abundance of sweetness.
Up or down, highs or lows, I am a creator. I can make cinnamon rolls. From scratch! My circumstances may waver, but my worth remains the same.
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Funny enough, after writing everything above, I landed a full time job! This was originally going to be an essay to submit to literary journals, but I decided to post it here instead, to share that I am now working as a litigation assistant at a law firm and I couldn’t be more grateful to have met an employer who saw the value I bring to the table. But, I really think everything happened in the timing it was meant for. It wasn’t until I saw my own value in myself that someone else noticed that. I implore you, go make cinnamon rolls. Do whatever it is you love, and the dough will rise in time.
