I was momentarily stunned when I typed the title and realized that this would be the 30th time I have published a post in this specific category! It makes me wonder how many recipes I’ve shared with y’all since I started blogging. However, it doesn’t make me wonder to the degree that I am going to research all of the 29 previous posts and count recipes!
Speaking of recipes… I have more to share with you! I definitely need to take a break from all of the recipes for sweet treats that I’ve been trying out. Since I have to taste some of each thing I’ve made, I’m putting sweets in my mouth two or more times a day (and playing with my blood sugar levels, I’m sure!). I’m actually looking forward to some savory meals to make – some my regular on-hand recipes and some that I have to try out to see how they are.
Before I get to the recipes, though, I’ve learned two more hacks to share. Well, both of these hacks I’ve seen from watching so many food videos, but I’d never had reason to try them, or remembered to try them when I did have reason.
Hack #1 for this post is that, whenever you have to measure something sticky – like honey, molasses, peanut butter, etc. – give the inside of your measuring cup a spritz with cooking spray. You will find that at least 90% of the food item will pour quite easily from the cup, meaning a quick swipe with a spoon or spatula will get the remaining tiny bit still stuck with one swipe. And Hack #2 has to do with peanut butter specifically. If you need a measured amount of peanut butter, don’t waste your time trying to dig from the jar and get it into the measuring cup. Simply put the open jar into your microwave and set the timer for 1 minute at 30% power (you can play with/adjust times and power as this was what worked for me). Carefully remove the jar – it shouldn’t be too hot to handle and pour the peanut butter into your measuring cup. The remaining peanut butter in your jar will resolidify as it cools back down. You can even do this when you’re trying to get the last of the peanut butter out of the jar – just heat it and pour it into a cup or bowl, then let it cool down before you spread it.
Oh, and in case anyone read my last happy place blog and questioned the idea of “brown flour”, here’s proof:
Okay, it’s time to share recipes with you that are tried and approved by me and my taste-testers.
Loaded Baked Potato Casserole Ingredients: 1-1/2 lb. baked red potatoes (6 medium) 1/4 tsp. each salt and pepper 1 lb. cooked and crumbled bacon 1 c. sour cream 2 c. shredded cheddar cheese 2 c. mozzarella cheese dried or fresh chives
Instructions:
Cut baked potatoes into 1 ” cubes when they are cooled enough to handle easily .Preheat oven to 350°.
Layer 1/2 of potato pieces into a greased 9 x 13 pan.
Sprinkle 1/2 of the salt and pepper and 1/2 of the crumbled bacon on top of the potatoes.
Using a spoon, dollap 1/2 of the sour cream over the top in a random way.
Repeat second layer in the same way.
Bake uncovered in a 350° preheated oven for 20-25 minutes until cheeses are well melted.
Remove from oven and sprinkle with chives before serving.
NOTES: I used 3/4 of a 5-lb. bag of red potatoes and I wasn’t sure even that amount was going to be enough. Also, when it comes to the potatoes, I would cube them while they are raw and then just add them to boiling water for about 5 minutes, testing until they feel par-boiled, then drain them well. For me, the 2 cups of each cheese was not too much, but it was a lot of cheese per potato ratio, so I’d have no hesitation cutting the amount to 1-1/2 cups each and still think it would be plenty.
Amish Oatmeal Pie Ingredients: 1 unbaked pie shell (homemade or thawed from frozen) 1-1/4 c. packed brown sugar 3/4 c. oats (can be traditional rolled oats or quick oats) 3/4 c. milk 3 eggs, beaten 3 tbsp. room temperature unsalted butter 1-1/2 tsp. vanilla extract 1/4 tsp. salt
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 350°. If using frozen pie crust in pan, make sure it is thoroughly thawed and at room temperature.
In a large mixing bowl, stir together brown sugar, oats and salt.
Drop pieces of the unsalted butter into the dry ingredients mixture and work with a fork or your hands to break it up as much as possible.
Measure out milk and then drop the eggs into the measuring cup, beating them until they have mixed with the milk.
Add milk/egg mixture and vanilla extract to the oat mixture. Stir for several minutes until everything is fully combined.
Place pie shell onto a baking dish (to avoid spills to the oven). Carefully pour the mixture into the pie shell and place the cookie sheet in your preheated oven.
Bake for 40-50 minutes until pie is completely set (no jiggling) and a toothpick comes out clean.
Let cool no less than 10 minutes.
Serve slices with ice cream or whipped topping if desired.
This recipe surprised me. It didn’t sound all that appealing, and yet, I couldn’t pass up taking a bite every time I was near it. The best way that I can say how it tastes is to tell you that it reminded me of pecan pie, without the pecans on top, and not as sweet. My #1 taste-tester asked for the recipe, which is high praise.
Oh, I have other pictures of items from recipes I tried, but as I explained in my previous post, it was working on this article that made me lose my patience (what little I have to start with!) and just walk away from blogging for the better part of the year. I need to stop trying out so many recipes like I have been because I want my kitchen to stay as my happy place. Even at the onset of the colder months, I haven’t spent much time ‘creating’ those comfort foods that I like to keep on hand. So unless I see a recipe that I want to try for myself and it’s so darned good that I simply HAVE to share it, I hope some of these already shared with you make it into your repertoire.
I have started working on transferring recipes on various forms of paper to recipe cards, at least!
Enjoy what’s here, and you are always invited to share recipes with me!
I couldn’t think of a snazzy title for this post, but while I was sitting down to write it, the song “Working My Way Back to You, Babe” popped into my head. Anyone reading this old enough to remember that song, or the group named The Spinners? Anyhow, that’s what I wanted to write about in this post – about working my way back to you, my readers. It’s been a long dry year in my blog, and there are a few reasons for it.
What started what turned into a long sabbatical was trying to get recipes tried, typed up and put onto my blog. I claim that my kitchen is my happy place, but I’d ended up with so many sweet treats and desserts to try, when that’s not the kind of cooking I focus on. Plus, my laptop began acting up (it still is) and so I was fighting two battles simultaneously. People who know me know that I have a short string of patience, and I just finally gave up and decided to give this laptop a long winter’s night sleep.
Because I’d left that Happy Place post as a draft, every time I thought about writing a post, I knew I’d look at that in my draft file and while the blogger adult in me was telling me to press on, finish it and then let it go, the child inside of me was pouting and kept repeating, “But I don’t want to. I don’t want to. It will stress me out all over again!” Obviously, the temper tantrum worked.
But I have finally pulled up my big girl panties and decided that I’m going to ignore the Happy Place draft for now and post something entirely different. I’ve been so quiet here that only a few of my readers whom I actually know personally even know I’m still alive!
I don’t know how many posts I’ll put out there. I don’t know if there is anything I will write about that anyone else will even care about. I just know that I need to get my thoughts back in order and writing a blog post has always helped with that. So…. hopefully you’ll see me around a bit more!
The die have been rolled. The players have been chosen as “the best of the best in their conference”. The venue has been decided, and the entertainment has been announced. On Sunday, February 11 at 6:30 PM, EST, in the Allegient Stadium in Las Vegas, Nevada, the San Francisco 49ers and the Kansas City Chiefs will face off against each other, fighting for the right to earn the LVIII (58th) Superbowl Trophy.
During these 60 minutes of actual play in the field, a half-time show will be presented, as the average airtime overall for a Superbowl game is 3 hours and 12 minutes. Usher will be the headline of the half-time show. An extra bit of trivia about Usher is that he is a minor owner of the Cleveland Cavaliers (NBA).
And across the United States, family and friends will gather in the home of whomever has the biggest TV to watch this event. Others will find themselves in a bar setting where the game will be on the screen of every TV inside the building. The game will be on in any eateries that have a TV, and the servers will be checking it out between serving any customers there. The Superbowl brings a sense of tradition, even non-football fans (Gasp! How dare they?) will choose to be a part of the excitement. It’s comradery, it’s snacks, it’s adrenaline rushes, it’s cheers and boos about the action on the field and the referees.
As always, there is the additional hype about the newest Budweiser Clydesdale commercial, which will be talked about and shared on social media after the conclusion of the game. Other companies will spend thousands of dollars to earn a commercial spot, even 15 seconds’ worth of airtime.
I will not be taking part in the watching of Superbowl LVIII in any way. I have no interest in either team, though if I had to choose one, it would be the 49ers, simply because I like the colors and style of their logo better. I will also give credit to my (ex) husband who shared with me his philosophy that “on any given day, any given team can beat any other given team”. I have watched a few Superbowls when I did not have any concern over who won. Interesting, until you get to the game that it is a complete runaway, when, at halftime, one team has already scored 28 points and the other team has scored zero points.
Of course, let’s not forget that I don’t have TV access to the broadcasted game, and being there in person has the cost of over $5,000 per ticket. I wouldn’t (or couldn’t) pay that much to see my beloved Dallas Cowboys in person at the Superbowl.
Let me be honest here… the last time I saw any part of a Superbowl game was the match-up between the Carolina Panthers and the Denver Broncos on February 7, 2016. (FYI, the Broncos trounced the Panthers with a final score of 24 – 10.) The reason that I occasionally saw some of that game is because that date was a friend’s birthday, and we gathered with friends at a firehouse for drinks and comradery.
And here’s the real reason I’ve stopped watching unless my Cowboys are in the game… I have never enjoyed watching the half-time shows! To me, it’s all about glitz and flashing lights and streaks of fire and really has nothing to do with the talents of the performer. (In my opinion, the only time that crazy things should happen on the stage with the artist(s) is when it is TSO (Trans-Siberian Orchestra). There is too much of that and too much noise from the crowd for me to enjoy the actual show. So no, I’ve never seen the wardrobe misfunction, or anything else that might have ever gone wrong during the half-time show. And like most people, commercials are the time to use the restroom and/or refill one’s drink and/or snack plate, so I don’t see them. Even those folks who are looking at the TV are using that time to chat amongst themselves or check their phones.
Yes, I will use Siri to check on the score now and then. And yes, I will ask her for the final score. Beyond that, unless someone is inviting me to somewhere that has all kinds of snacks, I have zero interest. The fact is, I’d probably take my Kindle along and hide out in the corner with a plate full of snacks.
And if you have a negative way to how I’m feeling and acting about the Superbowl, I offer you this: The Dallas Cowboys are considered “America’s Team”. I’m not being un-American since the Dallas Cowboys are not playing. And I can live with that.
So does anyone who reads my blogs have a fanatic loyalty to either the Chiefs or the 49ers? Will you be watching regardless of the teams playing?
I don’t recall ever being superstitious. Although I still remember the childhood superstitions when taking a walk of “step on a crack, you’ll break your mother’s back, step on a line, you’ll break your mother’s spine”, I am not afraid of the numbers 7 and 13 in any form, be it the floor number in a tall building or a day of the week. I have no fear of a black cat crossing my path or bad luck for spilling salt. Though I’d probably prefer to walk around a ladder, I’m not concerned about walking under it. I recently broke a mirror, and though I’d joked about having 7 years of bad luck, I don’t really believe that I will. Although I don’t see a viable reason to do so, I am not afraid to open an umbrella inside.
I don’t believe in the ‘magic’ of a rabbit’s foot, a lucky penny or a 4-leaf clover. I don’t believe that making a wish before blowing out birthday candles is logical, any more than wishing on a falling star will make your wish come true. Nonetheless, I am occasionally guilty of acting out and saying, “knock on wood”.
Living in and around PA Dutch Country for all of my life, this area has a tradition about eating pork and sauerkraut on New Year’s Day. It is believed that doing so will bring good luck for that year. I happen to enjoy pork and sauerkraut, and when I do make it, I make enough that I can freeze servings for future consumption. I’d had been hankering for pork and sauerkraut late last year but decided to wait until New Year’s Day to make it. I have NOT had this traditional meal many, many times on New Year’s Day, and I cannot say that my luck has been worse those years, any more than I can say that I have had better luck when I have consumed the meal on New Year’s Day.
There are different superstitions around the world, and superstitions are usually based on cultural traditions and/or personal experiences. While not any kind of mental health issue to be superstitious, people who are heavily invested in their superstitions may experience stress, anxiety and depression. I recently decided to try on the superstition of 7 years of bad luck for the mirror I broke, and I must admit that I could immediately feel some anxiety in my chest as I imagined 7 full years or waiting and wondering when the next bad thing was going to happen!
Though not a mental illness/disease, mental health professionals agree that the reason people have superstitions is because they need to believe a supernatural force has the ability to influence unpredictable factors and that belief has a way of resolving the uncertainty of what may happen next (or in the future).
Advice is given that, in order to stop being superstitious, one has to learn to disassociate any good luck or bad luck with a specific thought as to why it occurred. Life is life, and sometimes we get dealt a winning hand and sometimes we get dealt a losing hand. Or be like me and be somewhat pessimistic about your life in general. I’ve been heard to say, “Expect the worst, that way you’ll never be disappointed!”
I’d love to hear if you have any superstitions and how they affect your life, especially if they are rarer or unknown superstitions to most of us! And if this subject interests you, you will enjoy looking up and reading about other superstitions around the world!
It’s been a while since I did a post with random memes I liked. I looked back some months ago and realized that the majority of the memes I shared were of the more negative variety, and so I made the choice to stop posting those. I mean, who needs yet another place in life that is filled with negativity? So, I’m going to start this new year doling out some positive words for you to read.
Because I read so much – not only a huge number of books annually, but also magazines, social media, other blogger’s posts and what appears on my default home page – I read a lot of words. Every so often, as I’m reading along, there will be a sentence or a statement that resonates with me on a deeper level. I started to jot them down this year, so I would have them at my fingertips to serve as reminders. I decided to type up a running list so I didn’t misplace scraps of paper.
As I read over them recently, at the beginning of the month, I wondered if there would be one or more of them from which others might glean a deeper level. So, I’m sharing them here with you. I could only credit a few of them, and if you find something that makes a light-bulb go on in your brain, please use it to your full advantage!
Why do we fear the truth? Because we fear that the truth we seek might not be one that we like.
I can’t always control what cards fate deals, but I can choose how I play them.
The hardest truth to learn in life is that not everyone is able to love to the depth that you do.
Balance is not something you find, it’s something you create (credit to Kristian, a fellow blogger).
The effect you have on others is the most valuable currency there is (credit to Jim Carey from a commencement speech at MIA, 2014)
Your life doesn’t get better by chance, it gets better by change.
I do not get to choose to likes me. That choice is the other person’s right, and I need to accept that someone may choose to like me even when I feel unlikeable (me, your blogger).
If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor (Desmond Tutu).
Don’t let your fear of failing override your confidence of succeeding.
When you come to the edge of all you know and you are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, trusting in the universe is knowing that one of two things will happen: one, there will be something solid to stand on, or two, you will be taught to fly.
The only thing necessary for triumph of evil is for good man to do nothing (Edmund Burke).
I hope that some of you will find your own light-bulb moment (or two) from reading this post. Feel free to share any or all of them in ways you feel appropriate (you fancy power point folks!). I’m going to print this out and attach it with masking tape to several surfaces around my home to force me to read them, memorize them, and develop a habit of allowing them to travel through my conscious thought stream on a regular basis.
I’m going to do my best here to recall something I read some years ago, something that made perfect sense to me and has since been stuck in my brain. It goes something like this: Phillip and Sandy were looking forward to the celebration of their 10th anniversary. They had made a pact that they couldn’t spend more than $5 in gifts for the other except for their decade anniversaries.
They both had taken their anniversary day off from work so they could spend the entire day with each other. After sleeping in, they shared a light breakfast and coffee, then stayed at the table lazily looking through the morning’s newspaper, trading sections. Showers followed and, with no other plans until dinner, they dressed casually and went for a walk. Upon returning, Sandy suggested they go in through the garage. When Phillip followed her, he saw a large, gaily wrapped box sitting on his workshop table. His eyes went wide, excitement lighting up his whole face, as he turned to look at Sandy and said, “If that’s for me, please, PLEASE let me open it now or the curiosity will make me crazy!” Sandy smiled up at him and after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded yes.
Phillip almost ran to his workshop table. Ripping off the paper as quickly as possible, he found a box showing the brand-new tool set he’d been telling Sandy about that he had seen at the neighbor’s and was jealous of. He was giddy with delight, grabbing Sandy and kissing her soundly before wrapping her in a huge hug. He looked back at the box and it was easy to see that he was more than ready to open the outer box and fondle each tool, his mind racing already about what little projects and tinkering he was raring to do with them.
Phillip saved Sandy’s gift until they were finishing their shared dessert at a fancy restaurant where they had made reservations for dinner. Phillip reached into the inner pocket of his sports jacket then pulled up a small box with a red bow on top and handed it to Sandy.
When she opened the box, her eyes immediately filled with tears. She looked up at Phillip, softly saying, “I can’t believe you remembered this!” The box contained a necklace and a pair of earrings in her birthstone, something she had seen months ago in a jewelry shop in the mall and had mentioned to him as she told him about her trip to the mall. She closed the box and held it close to her chest, mumbling, “Thank you. I love it.”
You all remember that men are from Mars, women are from Venus, right? Well, here is a classic example. On the Saturday morning after their anniversary, Phillip headed out to the garage, where he spent close to two hours inspecting each tool, holding each one in his hands and thinking of things he could find to repair with them. That afternoon, he finally fixed the closet door that kept jumping the track. He opened the hood of his truck and tinkered around, tightening things that weren’t even lose. He even asked Sandy if she knew anything around the house that needed fixing.
Meanwhile, Sandy had tucked away the small velvet box, after opening it once again and fondly touching each piece of the 3-piece set. These were special to her, and she didn’t want anything to happen to them, so she would only wear them on special occasions.
The moral of this story is that men are ready to use a gift of value as soon as possible. And women will tuck things of value away to save for a special occasion.
As I was processing my ideas for continuing this blog, it occurred to me that someone might suggest that I was comparing apples to oranges. As my mind pondered, it came up with a ‘solution’ that would compare apples to apples. Many men have a favorite scent of aftershave or cologne. Most women have a favorite scent of parfum. Apple to apple, right? Yet, because the man likes that scent he will wear it often. But most women still save their favored scent for…you guessed it, a special occasion. I have been guilty of tucking things away like that. I’ve amassed quite a few jar candles that have never been lit. I’ve always purchased eucalyptus candles from Yankee Candle because they help when my rhinitis is acting up, especially over the winter. I also really like the scents of lavender, lilac, blue hyacinth and Yankee’s Midsummer’s Night. I have only allowed myself to light a candle of one of those scents if I had more than one in my possession. I use a lot of hand and body lotion and I don’t have a ‘special’ brand, although I do have to check and make sure I like the scent. Meanwhile, I found a few tubes of specially scented hand lotion that were gifted to me over the years. I’ve kept them tucked away for a ‘special’ occasion, intellectually understanding that once the tubes were empty, they would be all gone…forever!
Well, here I am, at 67.5 years old and it suddenly dawned on me that what I would have defined as a “special occasion” in my 30s and 40s is most likely never going to happen in the rest of my days. And at my age, just being able to wake up to another day makes it a day of special occasion!
So, I’m burning the candles when I know I have time to focus and enjoy the scent. I threw one tube of hand lotion away because it didn’t smell at all like it was supposed to smell. I’ve used another, and I’m halfway through the last one. And after that, I’ll go back to using the hand lotion I have and never even miss the scent! I’m even using my parfum (White Diamonds) whenever I leave the house to be out and about.
I’ve read countless stories about why we shouldn’t save things for a “special occasion” but use them in the present and enjoy them. My friend, Marnette (aka Prin) opened my eyes up a few years ago when she and her husband decided to sell their house and downsize to their motor home. Marnette had done a lot of traveling across the world, and she had gotten herself some souvenirs of her excursions. Choosing to let them go, as far as I can tell, didn’t make a big change in her life. As I remember her saying in the letter she wrote me, which she sent along with a few of those kept memories to me, that “it’s just stuff”.
That reminder has been what motivated me to start downsizing objects that I had simply because I had the space to keep them. And then, once I started, I went a bit overboard – if I had something in my possession that I wasn’t going to use in the next 90 days, it was going! It took me a while to discover that I could keep things which had a purpose I could foresee in the future, and I could keep things simply because it made me happy when I looked at them. Even more important, I started using things that I was not willing to use in case something happened to them. I started listening to CDs of music I like (although I did slim them down by half) without worrying about something that might happen and I’ll never be able to listen to it again. I donated a huge glass bowl with lid that I only ever used when I would take something to a potluck dinner. And surprise, inside I found a stack of three glass bowls that I thought had gotten lost in the years ago, and now I have access to them again!
And perhaps silliest of all… My freezer is small and often times requires some ‘rearranging’ when it needs stocked. I recently found a small (4 oz.) zipper bag with rhubarb sauce in it. Now, my grandmother made rhubarb sauce every year when it was in season, and I liked it. If you’ve had rhubarb sauce, you know it requires a LOT of sugar to sweeten it up, and those big stalks cook down to almost nothing. I started off with a large saucepan full of cut pieces of rhubarb stalk and, in the end, ended up with less than 2 cups of sauce. And I know I used a lot of Splenda until it was sweet enough to suit me. Anyhow, I saw this small plastic bag of rhubarb sauce and remembered that I licked my lips with the thought, then put it back in the freezer to save it for…a special occasion! I had to remind myself to enjoy it soon, and it’s now thawing in the fridge to be made with my meatloaf for tomorrow’s dinner. I’m still having difficulty with ignoring the thought process that, once I eat it, it will be forever gone and it was an impulse splurge to buy and make it, so it may never happen again.
So here is my question to you: How do you define the words “special occasion”? Once you’ve defined that in your own mind, think about the next time you foresee a special occasion occurring in your life. So, what are you waiting for to use that something wonderful that you’ve been saving? For heaven’s sake, if you’re insistent on saving something for a special occasion, then CREATE ONE! Spend a night away from home, even if it’s just in a hotel the next town over and take that scented candle along with you to enjoy. Wear that special jewelry or special clothing for dinner at one of your favorite restaurants. Whatever you are saving, take a hint from the males in our population and use it while you still can!
P.S. I really do believe in what I’ve written here, but I have some additional incentive. My brother, who is my executor and beneficiary when I leave this earth, is a true minimalist and has no sense of sentimentality to objects. He won’t have the patience to sort through whatever I still have ownership to, so it will all maybe be sorted for donations, but I know in my heart that most of my possessions are going to meet their fate in a land fill.
Whenever I hear the words “active” and “passive” used in the same sentence, my mind immediately goes to the sense of someone trying to sell me on some idea in which, if I actively invest now, I will be able to sit back and collect passive income from that investment. I tend to be 100% cynical about those types of offers, so when I hear or see one, I’m immediately tuned out – no interest – not quite that dumb – ain’t gettin’ my money –
Recently, while I was writing and researching about depression (my last post), I came across an article that stated that what some people think is depression in someone is simply someone who lives a passive lifestyle. I’ve vaguely mentioned having someone be concerned about my socialization, or lack thereof. I’ve been struggling with that thought, and I did recently recognize that in the 7-1/2 years I’ve lived in Pennsburg, my socialization (lack of) has been the same! I’m having difficulty understanding why this is suddenly an issue, all the while realizing that this person’s life has had some major changes recently, and it’s HER lifestyle that has changed, not mine, and just because I don’t want to do the things she does to keep herself occupied doesn’t mean I don’t socialize. I mentioned in my last blog that I’m not interested in making new acquaintances simply because we share a commonality. I also don’t consider every person I’ve ever interacted with a friend just because I know him/her.
For 7-1/2 years, I have gone to appointments for hair, nails and all things medical. I am a ‘regular’ at my grocery store of choice, so I’ve gotten to know a few of the employees well enough to have a small interaction when possible. I make an occasional run to Walmart (when necessary) and go to the Dollar Tree store since it’s right there too. I occasionally go to the UPS store if I have to ship something or have an Amazon return. For several years, my bestie and I tried to meet for lunch on the last Friday of every month at her quitting time from work so we could spend time together one-on-one. I am on Facebook and involved actively in two groups – one about books and reading (DOH!) and one about things Pennsylvania Dutch. Honestly, I think I get plenty of socialization just being on social media!
And then, I have a great deal of socialization in this blogging world. I’m getting to know people and learn about people by the blogs they write and by the way they respond to my blog. I never really thought about it before, but there some bloggers to whom I’m loyal, whose every blog I see posted by them is one I will go to read, regardless of the topic. Every blog post is a chance to see beyond the computer screen to the person putting their words out there, and that makes me recognize that I am socializing, just not face-to-face.
So, okay, I live a passive lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean I am a passive person. My brother is probably the only one in the people who know me who know that I have a very reactive temper, and that occasionally it takes over my sanity. In those moments, when vitriol is known to make itself available for assistance, I’ve allowed it. In that way, I am very much like my mother, but at a much lower scale. When one of us children would do something to raise her anger level, she tended to punish first and find out the details later. I abhor physical abuse to children by adults for that reason alone. I am also very aggressive when I see someone hurting someone I care about, physically or verbally. I may not be a mama bear, but I have the instincts of one!
I recently (two days ago) found an article that is very accurate in showing who I am. The article is called If These 11 Things Describe You, You’re Probably A Low-Key Introvert (bolde.com), and I clearly see myself in 9 of the 11 things listed (excluding #7 and #8). I rather like that naming of it, and this article doesn’t exist because I’m the only one (there is safety in numbers, right?).
Therefore, I wish to go on record about three things of which I’m certain:
I (CONTENTEDLY) LIVE A PASSIVE LIFESTYLE, and
I AM A LOW-KEY INTROVERT and
I AM OKAY WITH BOTH OF THOSE THINGS ABOUT MYSELF WITH NO PLANS FOR CHANGE.
DISCLOSURE: This post will discuss depression both at a factual level and at a personal level. If this kind of content is in any way upsetting to you to read, please close the post without continuing to read.
I’m not certain that anyone who has lived or lives with depression is all that excited that depression gets its own awareness month. I suppose that November is the logical month, since this is the time of year when S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder) occurs for some people. S.A.D. is psychologically labeled as a form of depression. Its onset is thought to be because less daylight may trigger a chemical change in the brain leading to symptoms of depression.
S.A.D. became an actual diagnosis in 1984. However, although at the time it was not named nor recognized, I first experienced the symptoms of it in fall of 1975. I wasn’t ever naturally perky, vivacious and outgoing, so I only knew that I tended to feel noticeably melancholy, and I adjusted to the feeling so that it became ‘normal’. While I did feel more “down” than usual, it wasn’t a big deal because I didn’t live my life as “up”. It was only when the feeling started occurring annually, usually sometime between the last week of September and the first week of October, that I recognized the pattern.
I wasn’t officially diagnosed as suffering through S.A.D. until I was in my early 50s, when I ended up with a doctor who listened to me mention the annual onset of melancholy as I had told every new doctor who had previously undertaken my care. When Jenn listened, heard me and nodded in understanding, labeling what I went through with a name and assuring me that many people suffer in the same way, I was finally able to understand it and begin to accept it. I learned to bundle up and get outside on sunny days from September through February, raise my face up directly at the sun, close my eyes and just be for a few moments. Now, every year, I recognize the melancholy at its onset, and know that it’s temporary and it’s not a bad reflection on me. And people don’t notice the mood I’m in because I’ve perfected wearing the mask of happy, perky, etc. in public, a mask I needed to form and wear in order to survive 20+ years on the front line in the hotel industry.
I’ve had a few times in my life where I was very depressed, but those were always times when there was a BIG change in my life that impacted me enough to struggle with whether I wanted to keep going. My friend Melissa, who also suffers with clinical depression (100% chemical imbalance in her brain), once said, “I don’t want to kill myself. I just don’t want to go on living this way anymore.”
Exactly! I have no desire to commit suicide, and to be honest, here is probably the biggest reason: There was a man in the church my family moved to after we were all adults. It was a larger church than the small one I grew up in (where everybody knew everybody else’s business). I was living about 35 minutes from “home”, but I tried to join my mother at least once a month for a church service. At the very first service, I noticed a man wearing a blue mask and I asked my mom why with curiosity. The answer was nothing I would have expected. This man wore this mask whenever he was around people, because he had terrible scars on his lower face and mouth area. And those scars came from the fact that he attempted to swallow a gun but didn’t succeed. Think about that again – a man put a gun into his mouth with the intention of committing suicide, pulled the trigger, and somehow the bullet went down in aim far enough to slip between two vertebrae in his neck. His face and mouth were so disfigured because he hadn’t pushed the gun very far into his mouth and the recoil caused the injuries.
Yes, that’s a horrible story to know, but what I came away with from it is that suicide can fail. Truly, I realized that if I were to attempt – and fail – it would be the ultimate way in which I could disappoint my parents, and I knew the guilt of that would eat me alive. So, I have made a pledge that I will not commit suicide and have even said to my PCP, “I won’t commit suicide, because with my luck, I’d fail.”
In 2017, I suffered what would be diagnosed as a major depressive episode. (Again, I’ve never been a perky extrovert, but I never thought of myself as depressed, either!). It was the end of January when I actually could feel that I was depressed – not suicidal – but really doing nothing more than barely existing. Personal hygiene became something I cared nothing about. I didn’t read, didn’t watch TV, ate sporadically and mostly just sat. Melissa’s words came back to me – “I just don’t to go on living this way.” And yes, there was a small difficult emotion playing into that time – an action by someone that intellectually made sense, but emotionally made me feel completely forgotten and uncared for.
As a result of that episode, I now take an antidepressant in addition to the one I take for S.A.D. And I still have issues with motivation at times, but I recognize now that the lack of being motivated for physical activity is 90% because of my health, and not my mental state. I can lay awake while I wait for Mr. Sandman and actually see myself doing a whole bunch of things when I get up the next day. Well, you probably have heard the saying that “the path to hell is paved with good intentions…”
That’s the Readers Digest Condensed Version of my personal experience with depression. Now on to some facts I’d like to share:
Depression is considered a high-functioning mental illness. High-functioning mental illness is a term used to describe those living with a mental illness that most people don’t detect.
Approximately 3.8% of the population experience depression, including 5% of adults (4% among men and 6% among women), and 5.7% of adults older than 60 years. That means that approximately 280 million people in the world suffer from depression. It’s interesting to note, however, that only 7 million of that population have been officially diagnosed and are, or have, received treatment for that diagnosis.
When I was growing up, there was a stigma associated with needing help with the feeling of depression, whether through therapy, medication or both. People who couldn’t seem to deal with things that life threw at them without needing help were thought to be weak. And at a time in society where outward impressions were a big priority, people didn’t seek help because they didn’t want to risk having someone(s) in their peer group finding out and thus being labeled as weak.
There are two basic types of depression. Depression that stems from a traumatic event or events can be helped by spending time with a qualified therapist who can help work through the many and varied emotions around a specific event(s). Some may only need short-term therapy sessions to understand the emotions behind the depression and learn to accept and manage those emotions. For some, that therapy opens up a can of hidden emotions from other events or situations, and the therapeutic sessions may run for a longer time. Others may suffer with a chemical imbalance within the brain often brought on with a change in hormonal balance within the body or faulty mood regulation within the brain. Spending time with a qualified therapist can help determine if the depression is emotionally based or chemically based. If chemically based, you will be referred to a psychiatrist who will be able to work with you to find medications that can help balance the brain’s chemical measurements and bring relief.
These are facts that many people have heard or heard enough about to recognize depression as an illness. But it seems that their recognition is as far as their grasp goes. Depression can be well-hidden from those around us. Those of us who are diagnosed but still able to function in daily life, do tend to keep the diagnosis well-hidden, because the diagnosis itself makes us feel vulnerable.
I am clinically diagnosed with depression, and only because I annually experience S.A.D. to some degree and have had an episode of major depression (documented by my request in my medical chart), am I willing to accept (more or less) the diagnosis. But I don’t feel depressed. Oh, I may have a moment now and again when something happens that makes me sad, but I don’t carry around depression on my shoulders. When asked by someone why I’m not more social, it’s truthful to say that I am most content when I am by myself. To be around strangers for a specific reason sounds like a waste of time for me, because it doesn’t allow me the opportunity to develop a one-on-one relationship with any of those people around me. Also, despite my own issues (and I have a lifetime subscription to issues), I am comfortable enough with who I am to be comfortable by myself. For example, there is a loved one in my life who constantly needs to have conversation going around him/her, and that conversation is pure surface and trivial matters. When we are in a car, I am quite content to enjoy the silence – both to keep me more focused as a driver as well as to let me enjoy the scenery. But within less than 2 minutes of silence, this person will again speak up and share another unimportant story. It is apparently important that I know that a mutual friend won $50 playing the lottery or bowled a perfect 300 game in the bowling league that person belongs to or caught a 15″ catfish when he went fishing (last week, yesterday, doesn’t matter when). It is that important to this person to have conversation – as equally as important as my desire for silence – and so I listen, albeit not very closely, because I have nothing to add. However, knowing that all relationships require compromise, I say nothing about how much I dislike constant conversation like that because I believe it makes that person feel more comfortable in conversation than I am discomfortable with it.
But again, my appreciation of silence and my contentment of being alone doesn’t mean I’m depressed in some way. That is just how my life is, and I enjoy my life by giving myself those things.
This is getting long, but there are two more points I want to make. The first point is how people react to finding out that a person is experiencing an episode of sadness (not only just depression). When people say, “Let me know if you need anything”, it’s an empty platitude that allows that person to move on and go back to his/her own life without guilt. Even without being a depressive, I have never found it comfortable, much less easy, to reach out for help, and especially when I need it. I can remember incidents where I found it uncomfortable as far back as my teenage years, and I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten even less willing as time goes on. I know this relates back to my childhood, when my parents strongly reinforced the idea of not letting them see you sweat, don’t let them see that you can’t accomplish anything you think that they think you should be able to do. Because of that, I tend not to mutter the words of being called on if needed, and instead tend to show up fairly actively in just checking in once or twice a week. I also include in that checking in the question, “What can I do to help you today, even though you’d rather not admit that someone doing something for you will make you feel ‘weak’?” I might show up every 10 days of so with that person’s favorite donut and a cup of coffee, or with a ready-to-heat up meal I make that I know they enjoy. It’s one thing to offer to make yourself available to reach out if they need something; it’s another thing to do something that you know might be appreciated without waiting to be asked.
And the other point I have to make is, when there is a suicide, the words like, “If only he/she had talked to me” or “I wish he/she would have come and talked to me” make me cringe!
I know the statement above to be true. There are multiple reasons to remain silent about our feelings. I have chosen to speak about these feelings to others from time to time, and while they may listen, they can’t grasp the emotions because they’ve never experienced them (or never equated what they might be feeling as a negative emotion). Have you ever had a “meh” day? “Meh” being described where there was very little energy physically, mentally and/or emotionally that you foresaw in your life for the next 24 hours? If you’ve ever felt like you had a day that meant nothing good was headed your way, nor did you think there was anything bad headed your way either, then you’ve had a “meh” day. And if you can relate to what a “meh” day feels like, just multiply that times infinity, and that’s why depression feels like for me. There are things that make me smile, times where I’m in a moment and having a fabulous time, but most of the time, my days are “meh”.
And please understand this, which is a difficult pill to swallow: Suicide is a choice. (A Ph.D. I worked with said that to me because of a patient who would sometimes call and if that doctor was in session and couldn’t take the call, would make comments about committing suicide if she wasn’t that important to him.) Hell no, it’s not a smart choice, and that choice doesn’t happen overnight. As humans, we can suggest and advice people we care about to make a different choice, but we have no capacity to make that person change his/her choice. “If only” doesn’t erase what happened. Again, to me, that comment feels self-satisfying, a way to stave off any guilt be suggesting that if you had been in the picture, maybe things would have turned out differently. Think about it logically, and committing suicide is done without conversation beforehand and always when the person is alone.
This has gotten way longer than I thought it would be, despite having read the draft multiple times and edited some out each time. This may be boring to read to some or many of you. But…if I’ve given a deeper understanding of depression from my own experiences, or if I’d made you look at yourself or others in your life armed with this knowledge and understanding, then my mission has been accomplished! And, yes, you are getting this blog on the last day of November, but I’ve probably given 10 or more hours in writing and reading and re-reading and editing and re-reading, etc. to it, so it’s taken me a while to get it ready to publish. (If there were 31 days in November, you’d probably still get this on the last day of the month because there are still ways to edit this that I’ve run out of time to do!)
Ramblings and Ruminations 