Recipe for Success

It happened. I did it. And that could very well be the end of this entry. Kidding!

I don't cook. I'm not saying that in a snobby "above it all," way. I don't cook. In my childhood my father did all of the cooking. My mom made lasagna and questionable choices. That's about it. Okay and salad.

My dad made Mac and Cheese, full Thanksgiving Dinner, ham and potatoes, potato soup, split pea soup, chili, spaghetti, manicotti, stew, sweet and sour chicken, tacos, sloppy joes, pork chops, fried chicken and so on and so forth. 

When I was 16 my first friend at a new high school taught me how to get boys to make you a girlfriend, and how to scramble eggs. My sister taught me when I was 17 or 18 how to make french toast and grilled cheese. When I tried to make grilled cheese for my dad, he said I was using too much butter and doing it wrong. I no longer make grilled cheese but occasionally bust out some french toast.

I make epic sandwiches and delicious salad combos. I make a lot of plans. I burn rice, I rush things and get frustrated, and I successfully make banana bread that I am the only one that likes, although my daughter will have some on occasion.

I've tried crock pot recipes and nine times out of ten they come out "okay." Later they will be found out to have "needed more or less of x,y,z" or not having all the ingredients, being super annoyed and saying "whatever." My husband has made fun of Pinterest recipes since their very evolution. Last night was my first success.

I'm going to blame my weird control whims. I'm going to say that after being engulfed in all avenues of anxiety, that I thought...how can I harness this for good? I've been struggling with feeling negative and resentful as of late. I've been feeling as though I'm reaching out to certain people and getting little to no response which leaves me feeling impotent and unimportant. Something as simple as a Pinterest recipe did more than I thought.

My husband cooks everything. He is a very wonderful chef and I abuse that often. In that way I am beyond spoiled. I also, however, appreciate ANY meal made for me, even if it's not my favorite, because I am well aware that cooking is a time consuming craft.

When I found this recipe, the "hardest" task on it was, "brown the meat." My husband actually taught me to do that once. I could totally pull it off. Now for time frame and ingredients. Shout out to Wal-Mart pick up order. I got all the ingredients we didn't have, perfectly matched to what we needed, and picked them up after I got the kiddo, with no argument.

With even further recipe review, I realized that all I needed to do what cook the meat and open the cans. My daughter could do everything else without me. What would we be making? Taco soup. Why? Earlier this week I had asked my husband to make tacos and he defrosted some ground beef. Life happened and he had a particularly bad day and it didn't happen. To alleviate "extra" requests and expectations, I said just don't worry about it, we have plenty of other meal options. 

My husband's late night go to is either soup, or some form of nacho. I figured this could be the best of both worlds. This was a way I came up with that was intended to say "I appreciate you, I know you're having an off week, so here is something nice for you." I just really hoped I couldn't somehow mess it up.

I multi-tasked like a bad ass. While browning said meat my daughter did her evening reading for me. Instead of some huge homework fight, even when we were at odds, with me concentrating on not burning and fucking up the food, and her spelling out words she was stuck on, we did good. And when she finished reading, I was ready for her to do the ingredient dump. 

We both rocked it, but she did so incredibly well just listening and stirring and understanding what we were doing for her dad. Too bad she'd never eat it, but she sure was excited to make it. It felt so good to "meal plan." It felt good to put something together thinking it would probably come out good. I set my alarm for 1AM to go turn it off in case the hubby would be later than that. No sooner did I snap that crock pot to "off" and crawl back into bed did I hear him come home, ready to enjoy his super late dinner.

He actually said it was good and he added some cheese and dipped his chips in it. My daughter said she'd remembered the secret ingredient, "Love," when she was making it.

It's weird how something so simple as a Pinterest recipe gone right, and a really easy thing to put together, somehow has given me a spring in my step for Friday like what else can I accomplish!?

When you feel ignored by people you're vying for attention from, you can wilt like a flower honestly. Sure, they are busy and working hard, but sometimes you just want some validation or acknowledgement. We're all human after all. Somehow this recipe for success actually gave me the water I needed to bloom and not wilt. This recipe's success gave me the confidence that with a little attention to detail, planning and confidence, I'm more capable than I think. Perhaps it also left me with feeling like I don't necessarily need to seek out that approval but just keep putting out good vibes, good intentions and good words and things will be returned as they need to be.

I don't think one successful crock pot experience makes me a cook. I don't feel like now I can make anything but rather I have the confidence to try other simple things. I won't pretend those anxious feelings are remotely gone but maybe I'm finding amended coping mechanisms for better handling of them. 

I've had to breathe deeply a lot this week. I've had to be patient in ways that take me out of my comfort zone and have been messing with my emotions and mentality. This concentrated effort to make some taco soup was quite the random accomplishment but I intend to keep it close as a reminder for my capabilities, creativity and an affirmation to self care and some self love. What a way to kick off the weekend!

The Definition Of Relapse

Relapse, by definition is "a deterioration in someone's state of health after a temporary improvement." When you grow up with an addict, the word relapse pertains directly to using drugs or drinking alcohol again. In mental health, a relapse could be anything from engaging in behavior you felt you had control over once again, having a bad day of anxiety, or a weekend of depression. Okay, that is my mental health definition of a relapse, and also, an interesting segue into this post.

I have said that things were going good, going well and calm. I was feeling pretty okay with the flow of things in general. I wanted to blame my anxiety on the drama of the whole Hurricane Dorian watch. I wanted to say it was induced by the bad moods and general hysteria of the people around me in the world. Now that I have my head above water again, I can call it what it is: "a relapse."

My relapse was born of many triggers. Triggers are so strange. Some of them make sense when you look into them. Some of them blindside you and seemingly come out of nowhere. While the hurricane stuff did push my anxiety high, I had something come up in life on top of it all that felt as though the rug was pulled from under me and I fell down hard, left to get up with no help. This unplanned thing, this new information, sent me spinning with no focal point or way to stop from spinning out. 

I tried to stay calm and use that internal dialogue to talk myself down, but the thing about talking to yourself is, it can be kind of one-sided. With other circumstances overruling schedules, I was left alone with myself, with no one really to talk to besides my six year old and I started to shrivel. My six year old is fantastic company, but these forces made feel sad and shrinkable. You know that scene in The Little Mermaid where Ursula shows you the weird shriveled plant people? Yeah that was me, the poor, unfortunate soul. 

I reached out to some people as a sounding board but I had to be selective on who could handle my situation. In my upset I wondered how much of this internal uproar was my anxiety, how much was a bout of depression, and how much was me just overreacting. I needed someone to check me a bit and give me a real answer. There was validation the response that I got, which was my feelings were not only valid, but what I was going through was really unfair. This validation victory was short lived.

The thing about relapse, is it's familiar. When you're healing and focused on progression and you're pushing towards your goals, it's easy to look back at where you were when you were in a less great place and be like, "I hope I don't go back there. I hope I don't feel that way again. Things are so much better now, I'm not going back." When the relapse happens then you get this cloud of "How did I get here?," above you; a fog if you will.

That fog left me disoriented. Maybe it was the hurricane's fault because much like Dorian, over the weekend I just churned slowly wreaking internal havoc mentally. It came out in random crying jags, and often. I'd be in the kitchen thinking I should eat something and just think about the situation and be crying into the sink. I couldn't focus my eyes when talking to my daughter or her playdates from time to time. I felt so damned blah.

I let my daughter see me through this, though. She asked about it and I said, "Mommy is having a hard time." The one time this weekend I lost my temper, the one time I became so unhinged wasn't even at my daughter, but rather in proximity to being pushed to my max. I immediately felt like shit because I scared her when I let out a yell about being done with things and how much I just tried and kept feeling like I failed. When we both calmed down and started to re-tell the events and how mommy lost it, my daughter said, "Turns out Labor Day is a bust." Somehow this just made everything in my heart light again. Not only was it completely accurate but she made it fun and sweet.

Yesterday I was half lifted out of things. I felt a baby step forward but was still not far enough out of everything to call it, "moving on, moving up." Today, though, I feel like I'm starting to process everything more constructively. Full on steps are happening for Wednesday.

Depression and anxiety are beastly. You can go for months using your coping mechanisms, therapies, tools for self care and everything else properly and then boom, something trips you up. It's the same with drug and alcohol recovery to where you can be sober for days, months, years, and experience something that just triggers you or throws you from your cadence, and before you know it you're using again. 

It shows me how delicate the balance is. It shows me just how careful you have to be with everything. It was difficult for me to reach out and to explain the whole scenario and talk about it. It still is, honestly. It feels multi-faceted and filled with back story; overly-complicated much like Shrek with onions having layers. 

I feel as though the past 5 days for me have just been the epitome of a relapse. In my personal therapy quest my therapist reminds me that this is okay and it will happen from time to time. This is all part of the growth process and recovery from trauma, but also just a part of life in general. Not being hard on myself is a struggle. I have to admit though, this particular relapse just completely wrecked me for a couple days there.

Everything felt futile and I felt extremely alone. I started feeling slightly insane as though I had made something into a "bigger deal" than it was in reality. That's a jarring feeling, in my humble opinion. It made me feel out of control, which is something I don't do well.

There are times when your patience and "go with the flow" abilities are essential. It is all you can do. There are other times when taking control, when gripping the wheel and getting back on course is essential. This is another delicate balance.

I don't like feeling as though I have no say in things and life just happens upon me. I no longer want to be just a viewer watching my life go by. I strive to be an active participant. I no longer just succumb to the whims of "not having a choice," or feeling like I can't have an opinion, a plan, goals and even dreams. I stayed quiet too long so now I feel like, "I'm very much allowed to say what I want to say!," at least in situations in my home and personal life.

While I feel as though this trip up in my mental health was really sucky and unfair, today I feel less wobbly about labeling it as an important learning experience. This relapse took me down for close to a week from beginning to end. Only last night did I start to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I felt as though I had been staying so positive that I was bound to feel a bounce at some point. After all, it is only fair because what goes up must come down.

Relapses are rough! I don't care who you are or what your definition of relapse is but any recurring flair of uncertainty and uncomfortable-ness is less than desirable. I don't pretend to be immune. As for this particular bout, I had a pretty good run beforehand. I have some more work to do now, some "extra" added on. This is my time to really plant my roots firm and push on the growth because it is situations like this one than can make those better days sweeter when the bitter days are overly sour. 

We easily take things for granted, whether we know it or not. The bad days put the good ones in perspective so I want to give myself that win. For anyone reading this who wants to reach out and talk, I hope you do. I may have felt super alone in my down time but I know that in reality, I'm not, and neither are you. 

Thanks to my readers for being patient with me for all of this and I'm so glad I was able to share. On this September Wednesday morning, I'm grateful we have just a couple more days to the weekend! We got this!

It's Okay To Remind Yourself It's Okay

Lately my internal dialogue has been interesting. I've keyed into it now more than ever. Sometimes I'll catch myself just repeating reminders to myself under my breath. Most often it's just consistent affirmation that, "It's okay," "I'm okay," or "It will be okay."

The difference between the "okays" now and say, 4 years ago, is that they are more believable and realistic currently. I feel like during the darker times they were just a band-aid on a gushing wound. In the past, reminding myself that it "was okay" was more of an attempt to hate myself less, rather than heal and grow. Today, the okays are support and pushing my emotional and mental growth.

I would compare it to those moments during a workout where you are convinced you'll keel over and you can't finish but you tell yourself, "Nah, you got this." That basic idea is one that I have translated into every day life.

Inner dialogue is delicate because it can come across as completely crazy and almost unhinged in certain circumstances. I am going to make a blanket statement that inner dialogue or working something out in your mind, is a little different than "hearing voices" or actually talking to yourself, although I've had both of those happen in my life too.

I used to reach out to people to help remind me that it's okay which in retrospect was kind of unfair in many aspects. On the one hand, "asking for help," is awesome and sometimes necessary. On the other hand, that can put pressure on people and make them feel like an unpaid therapist.

I think we all need certain encouragement from other sources when warranted, but we also need to self care, self love and self-rely on just me, myself and I. My internal dialogue can range from, simple and silly, to completely deep and driven depending on whatever it is that I am sorting out.

It could be a rationalization for an unanswered question. It can be an encouragement to breathe deep and know that the anxious feelings will surpass from a work exchange or life exchange. It can be finding a solution to a problem. It can be feeling inferior or attacked even. All of these moments have my inner self working for me.

These moments are also like "self-check ins." Sometimes they get the hamster wheels working to find out what actually bothered me. The "okays" come often when faced with triggers. Finding my triggers has been quite an experience. I'm not sure I will ever unveil them all. I compare it to a fossil dig; there could be some stuff layers and layers down that will never fully uncovered.

It can also feel very uncomfortable to dig into that part of myself because triggers can be mean and ugly and can take you to a place you didn't want to go. I had felt triggered earlier this week and I gave myself the, "Okay, so what was really your issue with the subject at hand?" It wound me into this whole, issue of speaking outside of personal experience, judgement on others, addiction and recovery misunderstanding, the issue of forgiveness, the issue of struggling in relationships and then all the way around to women's rights issues and the societal norms for women. I was completely heated about this trigger of just feeling "not okay" with what was put before me.

I almost wrote some big, bad, blog about it but realized it would serve no one but me because my triggers are my own and while I can share them, they often won't be the same as anyone else's. I also didn't want to just pour out some bitter diatribe about things that left a bad taste in my mouth. Everyone has those moments and exchanges from time to time. It's human and again, totally okay.

It's not only extremely okay to remind yourself of the "okay-ness," but I feel it extremely necessary. Life gets overwhelming in a mere moment. You can be having a routine day and get upsetting news of any kind and feel as though nothing is remotely okay. You can be having a boring day and have one minor thing trip you up and you feel wobbly. These are the moments my internal dialogue kicks in and says, "Yeah that's frustrating and really horrible, you can sit with this a moment but it will be okay. It's okay to be defeated right now."

Recently I have been in love with my ability to allow myself to be human because that hasn't been the case over the past handful of years. I had held myself to impossible standards that broke me and I slowly picked up the rubble. So now, being so human and loving myself more through it feels peaceful and calm.

I've made crap choices. I've hurt people I love a lot. I've spent years in fear of what others would think, "if they knew," about hurdles, frustrations and my realities. Now that I've spent hard time healing, I like knowing that, not only are those dark times "okay" and overcome-able, but anything in the future is "okay" and deal-with-able too. 

Reminding yourself of "the okay" doesn't feel selfish to me. I suppose it could be in some circumstances but I think we need self-affirmation from time to time. We naturally seek outside validation, whether we admit it or not, so being okay with yourself should be a positive (mostly).

Everything is a delicate balance. I admitted a few months ago that there were periods of my depression when things were rough, and where it was legitimately terrible and hopeless feeling, but I couldn't allow myself to "live there." I could pass through but not unpack. What did my therapist say to that? "That's okay, that makes sense." The okay-ness affirmed and validated by a third party, then allowed me to look into myself and say, "yes, that is okay."

It is okay. Tell yourself that. Write it down. Read it again. It is all okay. It will all be okay. It is my core belief that it is okay to remind yourself, as much as needed, that it's okay. This may not be a "thing" for you. This may not seem alright or attainable, which is fine. To each their own, but I encourage anyone, especially those feeling anxious, to try some internal dialogue about "the okays," and see where it takes you.

My journey has been uncomfortable, strange, wobbly, bumpy and fearful. My journey is still evolving, but small steps for me have had huge gains and I keep those victories with me for the bad days. Keep going, readers! We're one day closer to the weekend!

Dining Out With My 6 Year Old Is Stressful And I'm Done Pretending It's Not

We live in a weird time, especially in terms of family habits and meal routines. I was raised with the idea of, "What is put in front of you, you eat, like it or not." I now live so grateful that anyone would cook for me that I eat everything, even if I in fact hate the food. When I studied in London my host mom made steamed white mushrooms with everything. Add enough salt and pepper and I stomached them, no complaint. I detest regular mushrooms.

My dad made me eat green beans so much that to this day, I never make or order them; I would never pick them on my own. When I was growing up I used to end up eating two dinners because my dad would feed me before I played at the neighbors and they ate later than us so when I went over and was asked "Do you want to join us for dinner?," I was under the impression it was impolite to say no and not partake.

I have no such rules in my life or house. We rarely eat together at the table, but more often in front of the TV. And I have inadvertently made the habit of eating in my room whilst doing chores. Why? Is it being busy? Is it being lazy? Is it just really bad habits? Is it not caring? It's probably a weird mix of them all. We sit down for dinner with friends and on holidays. We sit down for actual meals on occasion, but if I'm being honest? We're in a kid food conundrum and we all eat at different times and have completely different schedules.

I always feed my kid before I feed myself. I eat completely different foods than she does. I ask often if she wants to eat together and if she doesn't really want to, I don't force her. We have never had much of a budget to go out to eat in any regularity and I learned quickly that in my daughter's current culinary phase it's a waste of time and money.

If the mac and cheese looks or tastes "different," if the breading on the chicken isn't right, if the cheese on the pizza isn't what she wanted, if the hot dog is weird, she won't eat it. So I spend $10 or worse on a stressful time out, where I'm arguing with her, scarfing down my food while I can before she won't sit still, and then I leave with leftovers for her or us both that either further go to waste, or I have to reheat and stomach myself later on. This is not my idea of a good time.

She does better out to eat with my husband but the older I get, the less and less willing I am to risk my time and more-so my money on some culinary caper that could figuratively and literally backfire. I also just don't like monitoring my child to the point of insanity and the whole technology at the table thing as a distraction doesn't sit well with me if we are making an attempt to GO OUT and have "quality time." She can sit in front of the TV at home, why take a mini TV with us?

When we do sit as a family, we talk and joke and eat and then clean up. But there are nights when just her and I sit down and I'm watching her eat, forcing her to get done before she can watch TV and then it's more stress than to just let her watch HER shows, with HER food, while I go be productive or maybe relax in my room. It's okay to think this isn't the best system, because I hit my wall with it and then we end up back at a table or restaurant for more trials. This is just what works. For us. For now.

On vacation the eating out thing just wrecked me. I felt fortunate to have my best friend willing and able to feed my child at their house, and all of the things she loves, with no argument and perfect negotiation skills. We ate all meals at the table, and my daughter loved every moment. If I'm being real, my husband is only home for dinner two nights a week, and he cooks separate things for me and especially for her. She always wants, "daddy's grilled cheese." When she's with mommy it's usually quesadilla time.

She's difficult because if you go to anywhere that isn't Chili's, Red Robin, Panera ( and Panera I can at least enjoy) she might just go on a hunger strike or just ends up eating all french fries and no protein. I stopped torturing myself by taking her out to eat because I can't stand the negotiation. We don't have those issues at home TV dinner or not, she just eats and then clears her plate before asking for dessert.

You can read this and think I'm a bad mom who needs to re-evaluate habits but I've written before about how dinners by the light of the TV were my staple with my dad when my mom left, so they feel okay, and natural. My daughter and I do chores and homework to earn our relax time and as you can imagine her being done with things always precedes my finishing up my "to-dos," so feeding her first never feels like I'm slighting her.

As far as going out to eat, when you're married to a chef you get very stingy with not getting what you pay for when it comes to meals. I almost exclusively dine at my husband's restaurant maybe once a month because I know exactly what I'm getting. I'm also a weirdo in that I have no issue dropping $300 on a gourmet dinner but if I go to Red Robin, feed 3 people for $70 and get sub-par, mishandled food, I get completely irate and go back into hibernation.

Perhaps it's because that $70 is half of a week's worth of groceries, which would be no hassle compared to a crummy meal and handling 6 year old whims out in the world. Hence, I can justify it, and any restaurant worth spending $300 is probably serving the real deal so I can handle that better. Regardless, I have officially stopped pretending that my daughter's stressful dinners out thing is anything but actually stressful and I'm finally in a good place with it.

On vacation our first lunch was a huge flop for her and we even made it her way. I was so anxious. We had to pre-feed her before a wedding, AND before a gourmet dinner out because rather than order and have her not eat it, at least we knew she ate. In New York we ate at Panera twice in 48 hours and she did not enjoy an actual NYC slice of margarita pizza because the cheese looked weird.

It's not worth the stress of me arguing with her at dinner. It's not worth the energy taking her out honestly. I really dislike pretending my kid is that "perfect kid" at restaurants. In fact, going out to eat is kind of a racket anymore, in my personal opinion. You will find some GREAT places, but I'm much more confident in my Chik-Fil-A, Panera and say Tijuana Flats purchases than a P.F Changs, Applebee's or Outback Steakhouse purchase. I at least know my child will carb and protein load at the aforementioned establishments.

I'm very much done doing all that to myself. In every sense, it is not worth it and pretending it doesn't  affect me negatively is equally as stressful. So much like my general "not doing what I 'should' be doing" phenomenon, I am very much over making this unnecessarily harder for myself.

It is in my mindset to better implement dinner table dinners, but last night we were all watching Spiderman together, each of us eating comfy in the living room, laughing and enjoying full family interaction. To me, it is convenience and comfort over "tradition" and routine. I remember not being able to wait to finish my meal and getting away from the table to get back to whatever I was doing, so I think my "cheat" of in front of the TV eating experiences cuts down on that in a weird way because she's already where she wants to be.

I'm also starting to own my war wounds. After a tumultuous handful of years and finally grasping some calm, I don't really want to fight for things that are more maddening than helpful and that increase both my daughter's and my own anxiety. Her comfort is her quiet time with her shows and movies and her favorite food, which she gets exactly from me. I always feel better when I'm lost in visual storytelling and drama as opposed to forcing uncomfortable dinner interactions with family over a race to clear your plate.

In this mode of healing, I don't feel bad that we are still developing good things and memorable routines. We have plenty of time for family dinners out and table dining when she's ready to commit to the moment. For the 6 year old attention span right now, I pick my battles carefully. And as for this Friday, I continue to push through to more growth and continue my journey, no matter how weird, how "unconventional" and how lackluster some of our habits may be. Here we grow!

The Betterment

July has been brutal. I don't mean hot, although sure it's be hot. I don't mean brutal like "bad." We have just been busy non-stop and it flew by so fast. Wasn't yesterday just the 4th? How is summer almost over?

I was texting with a friend last night, needing to catch up because so many little things have fallen through the cracks, especially with vacation prep, and we were doing our normal "how are things going," routine and she specifically asked about the hubby.

Yesterday he had mowed the yard, and mowed the neighbor's too because they have been kind to us that way, and helped an elderly neighbor with their trash bin, all while hosting the neighbor girl for a play date, making me some dinner and getting other chores done too. Last weekend when I had the kids with us, he brought me coffee often, he helped where and when he could, and he was nice even if I wasn't so receptive in that exact moment.

I relayed some of that to her and she says, "It seems like things have been going better this year." I stopped and read it and reread it a bit. Better. Things were better. Betterment. We had entered into some betterment.

A year ago this time we went back to Oregon for the first time together in years. There was a lot of anxiety about the trip and I was mentally struggling, but I was also adamant to make the most out of our first ever dual paid vacation off. When we returned I felt like maybe we could really make things better. That's when a little speed bump in the road of life seemingly left us a flat tire and no cell service. We weren't better, just yet.

After one last bad, bad situation, one last storm of epic proportion, finally a rainbow had appeared. It's been a work in progress. It has been one step, one day at a time. It has been anything but easy and I still move forward, cautiously optimistic. I will say that I feel we are on the right track after it all. We are getting better, bit by bit.

I became really good at struggling. I found my coping mechanisms, my deflections, and my ways to survive, but I didn't like being in that place. I became very much able to handle the storm. I learned to stuff everything down and swallow it so it wouldn't affect anyone but me. This was not a solution, it was just pure survival mode.

When you start learning about trauma, what trauma actually is, and paint-by-numbering your own experiences with it, things can get murky, and then somehow clear. This process is enlightening and frustrating all at once, in my personal experience at least.

I had to throw out my self-sabotage and survival modes and learn about self love and self care. I'm still working on that, even today. I had to find ways to trust again without destroying my intuition and past experiences, invalidating them. I had to learn to accept my flaws and embrace them, also a day to day process.

I had to learn to communicate and speak up, which can still feel uncomfortable at times. Last weekend with extra kiddos my husband and I had a momentary altercation. My exhaustion and maternal instinct kicked in hardcore and while he said he would take care of things, I undermined him and over-spoke because I was so maxed out, I couldn't properly communicate with him and listen or let him in.

I caught myself and apologized. I admitted what I did was crappy and unfair and we didn't have it drag on through the day as this cloud of being annoyed with each other. It passed immediately and was freeing. This was an affirmation of the betterment.

It's the smallest signs of the betterment that I need and love the most. It's the surprise cups of coffee, those favorite dinners ready when I get home. It's the garage being reorganized or a trip to the store done so I don't have to. When you are so used to carrying everything yourself and then your partner helps, it's a new kind of luxury and renewed kind of comfort.

Sometimes I don't want to admit that things were so bad so as to warrant this betterment but lately I have been more conscious of enjoying the journey and being extremely grateful for where we are on the path. Sometimes those sentiments are not simple or easy but more often than not, they are there, I just have to pay attention.

This is the first time in a long time I'm going on a trip and I have good things to report. I can say with confidence that things are generally "okay" and not have some subconscious voice call me out for faking it until I make it. I can be at ease, which honestly makes me feel slightly uneasy just typing that.

Life is difficult. It is stressful. It is so frustrating at times. But we do only actually live once so we gotta make the best of it. Marriage is hard, and anyone who says differently might actually be insane. Parenthood is difficult, rewarding, and maddening simultaneously. When you feel engulfed in the depressive and anxious ways that can take over when life gives you lemons, you're prone to just let them rot rather than making that lemonade stuff as the saying goes. Although I think making that lemonade and adding a little sugar, or extra sugar if necessary, that is the start of the betterment.

With all the cliches and metaphors I hope you find yourself nearing betterment. Or if you're in a rough spot, remember that the betterment can happen. That may be easy to forget! For now, I plan to enjoy my betterment, perhaps with a cold glass of lemonade!

The Wonderful Thing About Triggers

No, TRIGGERS, not Tiggers! But what a wonderful alliteration, no? So here we begin for a Monday.

Being "Triggered," is now almost a trendy thing, and there are all forms of it. Some things can bring flashbacks, some can spark anxiety or prey on depression, some can make you want to eat all things, but triggers are real, and often tough to navigate.

In my early experiences for depression and anxiety therapy, they advocate you identify your triggers. This has been a new journey in all walks of my person life and it is both awakening and exhausting simultaneously.

Side comments and sarcasm can trigger. Sometimes things hit a nerve right? For me, I get triggered when I have someone who is extremely drunk or clearly high on pills/meth/cocaine bombard my bubble when I'm not expecting this. See, if I go to a bar or an establishment where alcoholics and addicts just are, I can adjust my expectations properly. If I am anywhere in broad daylight, especially around children, it always takes me aback, not that a parent might have wine or a beer near kiddos, but that someone could be unabashedly wasted around the smaller youth. These are triggers for me.

I know they are triggers for others as well and they can really mess with you at times. When I get triggered I either have a shorter fuse for patience, or I just sink a bit mentally. I feel like I have to mentally talk myself out of the funk until I can handle the situation at hand. It often feels uncomfortable and exhausting.

We don't like to talk about our feelings do we? This is the very foundation of the world of therapy and its profits because we pay to have someone draw it out of us. Navigating all of this stuff often makes us feel like we are in the woods with no compass and no signal for GPS. 

Triggers can come out of nowhere too, which can feel like a metaphorical throat punch that knocks the wind out of you, depending on the situation. I'd recently experienced a trigger where my husband was playfully poking fun at me about being a mean grouch but it took me back "Stranger Things" style to the black-back-rounded, wet floor vignette of watching an older alcohol-fueled argument of being yelled at for being "mean, mean, mean," and other not nice words and it just stopped me in my tracks. I kind of had to sit down and close my eyes and remind myself that's not where we are.

My husband explained a trigger to me where he gets uncomfortable with class birthday parties at people's homes serving alcohol. He said, "If you throw a BBQ for your friends with kids and serve alcohol, no biggie, you know everyone on that list and are offering food and refreshments. If you have a family and friends birthday party for your kid where you personally know all the parents, and you have alcohol available, whatever. But when you invite strangers into your house, people you don't know well, you invite and entire classroom and their parents to accompany them, and you have beer next to the Capri Sun, I think that's a little weird." I keyed into this and saw what he was talking about and I for one don't drink around people I just don't know well. Knowing the triggers, we find our way to deal.

Admitting triggers is tough, especially in a world where mental health awareness is still becoming mainstream. I think so many people just take it as another form of "sensitivity," to life but mental health matters are real and deserve some patience and respect.

I get very triggered amidst the disregard and disrespect for mental health as well. It isn't as intensive as some other instances, but triggered, nonetheless. I feel like some people get the idea to test the boundaries and I'd like to ask, please don't!

 

I've been on this planet 34 years and my mother JUST NOW has started acknowledging my anxiety, depression and related issues as more than just "a hard time," or "over-sensitivity." This is a whole new thing for us and sometimes it gets weird.

This isn't some PSA about walking on eggshells, either. I've lived that way. It's incredibly not worth it. This is about the general respect and awareness that everyone handles their lives and their struggles in completely different ways so generally be patient, be kind, and give them a little space on things.

I've had to use my patience and kindness dutifully lately and as of last night, I had to learn to respect the space as I have also needed my space respected. The wonderful thing about triggers though, is they are a gateway to better connection, and better understanding. A simple, "What triggered you?," can go a long way and getting an explanation can help you be more communicative and mindful for future interactions. This is a PROCESS, people! It is a process that takes time and energy. It's also not a "fix," but it can still mend broken fences, if you will. 

So to kick off a week I suggest you share and ask about triggers with those you know have heaviness in their minds. Try it and report back!