This weekend there is a major celebration happening. My sister is celebrating her 26th birthday.
I know it seems silly to celebrate this occasion as a major milestone but you only get to celebrate your birthday once a year; and for Wendy, I like to pull out all the stops!
Alex, Molly and I bought her a really stellar birthday gift (which she opened today so she could use it at her party on Saturday), and this Friday, I'm making her vegan gluten free cupcakes. She's not a vegan but some of her party guests are so I volunteered my services in her honour.
I like vegan baking. Every time I find a vegan recipe, I'm always reminded of my feeling of scientific discovery. "Can I really make something delicious (and texture appropriate) using no products from animals?" The answer is sometimes.
Like anything, if you leave out or substitute key ingredients, you left with a product that is passable but not always the same as the original. Although this seems like a far-fetched analogy, I'm feeling this way about my life these days. I have all the key ingredients for happiness; but I've made a few substitutions along the way and I don't think that my end product is what I was expecting.
I have always been an approval seeker. As much as I want to deny it, I can't. I inherited this ridiculous trait from my mother. Her condition isn't exactly the same as mine but we are very similar in our general outlook towards others. To make a long story short, I'll cut to the point: I have made many decisions in the last fifteen years of my life to appease the people around me to the point where I think I've missed out on taking the opportunity to be selfish.
*Note: By 'Selfish' I mean that I have never lived on my own or gone anywhere alone. I've never been alone or only looked after myself.
Don't get me wrong, I don't regret my life with Alex for a second. What I'm trying to say is that I'm feeling like now that I have Molly and Alex and the house, I'm mourning the opportunity for me to ever be just ME.
Sure, many can argue that I've had my whole life to take this opportunity and that I have tried (i.e. my life discovering trip to New Zealand two years ago), but it isn't the same. Coming back to it all meant that my experiences were never alone.
Knowing this, will help me manage and overcome.
Can I be on a journey towards happiness with 'vegan' ingredients? Vegans would argue, yes.
I've managed to cut gluten and make things that are delicious. Knowing the chemistry of baking helps me understand what I can augment to make something yummy while keeping tummies and dietary restrictions happy.
I think that realizing where my unhappiness stems from can help me on the journey to make things better. Also, if I really blow it, I may have to crack a few eggs along the way to help me out, but for the vegans, I'll keep to flax meal and applesauce as your finished product. :)
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Cotton Candy Frosting
There are a few simple things in this world that excite me. Like my sister, I like to grocery shop with reckless abandon and buy the weirdest new thing to try. Most of the time, we've come across some winners. Last week, we found a loser.
As per usual, I was shopping for my weekly cupcake adventure when I came across something Duncan Hines calls, "Icing Creations". Basically, you buy an oversized tub of plain frosting and add artificial flavour packets to customize your very own flavour. I bought two packets; pink bubblegum and blue cotton candy. These flavours came at the recommendation of my sister in law, Erica. She and I agreed that Jess would like these flavours best. We were right! Jess loved the cotton candy flavoured icing even though, Erica and I thought it topped the list of probably one of the grossest things each of us have ever eaten (Please note: I've eaten some really gross stuff in my time; including my first attempt at carrot cake- ask Alex about this one).
What really mattered was that Jess had fun and that we tried it. If we hadn't tried something new, how were we to know that it wasn't going to work out or that it was really gross?
Being a first time mom, I'm finding that I have to figure a lot of my life out through trial by fire. These days I'm feeling like I'm getting more fire than actual success. This probably has to do with Molly being a grumpy-pants because she is teething. (Seriously folks, if she doesn't pop out vampire fangs, I'll be surprised. Blood sucking, nocturnal succubus of a baby... I digress).
Trying new things can be scary.
Having children is scary.
Putting these two notions together makes for a terrifying experience but overall a very interesting adventure.
Things that you never thought you were capable of doing start to become simply a way of life. I never thought I'd be able to carry as much crap in my arms as I can but sure enough, not only can I carry the weeks groceries, but I can do this all while holding a 25lb toddler, opening the front door, and shooing off a ferocious kitty cat. I had to try it; and it was a success (I admit, there were some cat scratches on my ankles, and a few broken eggs).
We all fear the unknown. This is the defining feature of what makes human-kind so interesting. Being in search of "The Answer" has led us to form organized religion, great art, and advances in science. Everyday we are all on the precipice of a great frontier into the unknown. Some answers are obvious, some we search for, and some we will never know. At least when we are looking for our answers, we can have some fun doing it. Nothing is more fun that trying bright blue frosting and laughing your face off with your sisters-in-law because it is just so nasty. :)
As per usual, I was shopping for my weekly cupcake adventure when I came across something Duncan Hines calls, "Icing Creations". Basically, you buy an oversized tub of plain frosting and add artificial flavour packets to customize your very own flavour. I bought two packets; pink bubblegum and blue cotton candy. These flavours came at the recommendation of my sister in law, Erica. She and I agreed that Jess would like these flavours best. We were right! Jess loved the cotton candy flavoured icing even though, Erica and I thought it topped the list of probably one of the grossest things each of us have ever eaten (Please note: I've eaten some really gross stuff in my time; including my first attempt at carrot cake- ask Alex about this one).
What really mattered was that Jess had fun and that we tried it. If we hadn't tried something new, how were we to know that it wasn't going to work out or that it was really gross?
Being a first time mom, I'm finding that I have to figure a lot of my life out through trial by fire. These days I'm feeling like I'm getting more fire than actual success. This probably has to do with Molly being a grumpy-pants because she is teething. (Seriously folks, if she doesn't pop out vampire fangs, I'll be surprised. Blood sucking, nocturnal succubus of a baby... I digress).
Trying new things can be scary.
Having children is scary.
Putting these two notions together makes for a terrifying experience but overall a very interesting adventure.
Things that you never thought you were capable of doing start to become simply a way of life. I never thought I'd be able to carry as much crap in my arms as I can but sure enough, not only can I carry the weeks groceries, but I can do this all while holding a 25lb toddler, opening the front door, and shooing off a ferocious kitty cat. I had to try it; and it was a success (I admit, there were some cat scratches on my ankles, and a few broken eggs).
We all fear the unknown. This is the defining feature of what makes human-kind so interesting. Being in search of "The Answer" has led us to form organized religion, great art, and advances in science. Everyday we are all on the precipice of a great frontier into the unknown. Some answers are obvious, some we search for, and some we will never know. At least when we are looking for our answers, we can have some fun doing it. Nothing is more fun that trying bright blue frosting and laughing your face off with your sisters-in-law because it is just so nasty. :)
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Creme Brûlée
Up until very recently, along with my Celiac Disease, I was lactose intolerant.
Since discovering that I can eat diary again, without too much discomfort, I have found that any time creme brûlée is offered on a dessert menu, I have to have it.
I can always judge a good creme brûlée. First of all, the surface area of the top crunchy bit has to exceed the circumference of the bottom of the vessel. (I want a larger area of the top crunchy bit and a smaller bottom bit). Secondly, Vanilla. Enough said. Finally, creme brûlée is only something I want to eat somewhere else. I own two torches and I know how to make it but the fact that it is available, and safe for me to eat somewhere else, is what makes it special.
The idea that somethings are only okay in certain circumstances is a really difficult concept for me. Creme brûlée is dessert and really, my rules around it are self-imposed in order to maximize its awesomeness for me.
What I mean, is that I don't understand why I feel uncomfortable talking about the way I feel face to face, whereas I'm totally cool to let it all hang loose here.
If people ask me questions about my health or how I'm doing, I generally say, "okay". I don't want to elaborate and truth be told, I am okay. Then, rather than sitting in an awkward conversation about how I actually would rather step on pins than spend another minute being a mom, I usually change the conversation to something a lot more pleasant. As eloquently put in my last post, I have little difficulty putting on a facade of happiness.
Why is it though, that the written word is so much easier to express for me than talking?
Is it because I can edit my words here and once all is said, all has been said?
*Note: I edit this a little bit for spelling and grammar but overall, these posts are honest and from the heart (and occasionally poorly edited). I don't hold back.
I know I'm not alone. People write stuff to other people all the time. Breakups via text; firings via email; love letters via post; and thoughts of sympathy via Hallmark card. There is a whole industry devoted to expressions of the written word. (I know this because last week I visited one of my best friends at the Hallmark Mothership).
Last week, I booked my first appointment to talk to a therapist. Unfortunately my appointment isn't until the beginning of March. I have no issue going to talk to someone and I don't feel anxious about it but I am concerned. I'm concerned that I can voice my true feelings much better in a written form rather than sitting and chatting. Obviously, that will probably be the first thing that comes out of my mouth when she asks me how I'm doing.
Like writing, talking is a skill. We work to hone this skill for various reasons but I don't think that anyone has truly mastered it. Like Creme Brûlée, I feel that there is always a time and a place for talk. For me, time is now and place is here however; for my health, time is March and place is Toronto East General Hospital. Let's hope I can adapt well enough to get all things I need to discuss off my chest and continue my path to better mental health.
Since discovering that I can eat diary again, without too much discomfort, I have found that any time creme brûlée is offered on a dessert menu, I have to have it.
I can always judge a good creme brûlée. First of all, the surface area of the top crunchy bit has to exceed the circumference of the bottom of the vessel. (I want a larger area of the top crunchy bit and a smaller bottom bit). Secondly, Vanilla. Enough said. Finally, creme brûlée is only something I want to eat somewhere else. I own two torches and I know how to make it but the fact that it is available, and safe for me to eat somewhere else, is what makes it special.
The idea that somethings are only okay in certain circumstances is a really difficult concept for me. Creme brûlée is dessert and really, my rules around it are self-imposed in order to maximize its awesomeness for me.
What I mean, is that I don't understand why I feel uncomfortable talking about the way I feel face to face, whereas I'm totally cool to let it all hang loose here.
If people ask me questions about my health or how I'm doing, I generally say, "okay". I don't want to elaborate and truth be told, I am okay. Then, rather than sitting in an awkward conversation about how I actually would rather step on pins than spend another minute being a mom, I usually change the conversation to something a lot more pleasant. As eloquently put in my last post, I have little difficulty putting on a facade of happiness.
Why is it though, that the written word is so much easier to express for me than talking?
Is it because I can edit my words here and once all is said, all has been said?
*Note: I edit this a little bit for spelling and grammar but overall, these posts are honest and from the heart (and occasionally poorly edited). I don't hold back.
I know I'm not alone. People write stuff to other people all the time. Breakups via text; firings via email; love letters via post; and thoughts of sympathy via Hallmark card. There is a whole industry devoted to expressions of the written word. (I know this because last week I visited one of my best friends at the Hallmark Mothership).
Last week, I booked my first appointment to talk to a therapist. Unfortunately my appointment isn't until the beginning of March. I have no issue going to talk to someone and I don't feel anxious about it but I am concerned. I'm concerned that I can voice my true feelings much better in a written form rather than sitting and chatting. Obviously, that will probably be the first thing that comes out of my mouth when she asks me how I'm doing.
Like writing, talking is a skill. We work to hone this skill for various reasons but I don't think that anyone has truly mastered it. Like Creme Brûlée, I feel that there is always a time and a place for talk. For me, time is now and place is here however; for my health, time is March and place is Toronto East General Hospital. Let's hope I can adapt well enough to get all things I need to discuss off my chest and continue my path to better mental health.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Muffins
My Mom always said that, "a muffin without bran is just a cupcake".
I get it.
Feel free to argue with either of us about this, but it really isn't going to get you anywhere. We are pretty set in our 'muffins contain bran' ways.
This weekend I am hosting one of my best friend's bachelor parties. With the help of my other great friends, we have devised a weekend full of good times, good friends, and lots of mayhem. I figure that that is what a bachelor party is (only usually there are women there who are paid to take their clothes off. With low enough self-esteem, I'm sure someone in our crowd can get drunk enough to oblige the stereotype). I'm making muffins for our Sunday brunch. I haven't figured out what kind yet, but I can tell you that I can't eat bran. (Flax is my bran substitute and I will be adding that so we can call these muffins 'muffins').
Most of my friends see me as a cupcake. I'm cute, small, funny, and usually covered in sprinkles. I give off the persona that I'm happy (like a vanilla cupcake with pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles). These days, I feel more like a muffin. I'm not feeling my pink frosting and sprinkles, and quite frankly I'm as bland as bran on the inside. Can one put bran into a cupcake and still call it a cupcake? One could frost a muffin or then it would be a cupcake? A cupcake with bran should really be a muffin with some makeup. I've made cupcakes without frosting before and no, they are not muffins! (Now I've just confused you all).
What I'm trying to say, (muffin and cupcake analogy aside), is that my looks are deceiving. I'm not trying to trick anyone on purpose but I feel that moping around can't help anyone. Seriously, when was the last time you wanted to hang around with a wet blanket? Right?!
I would like to hope that giving the impression of happiness would eventually lead to happiness. So far, you will all be pleased to know, that it hasn't hurt. I know that there are arguments for me being true to myself and I should give the impression of my self that I really am. Realistically speaking, I don't see much benefit in that. If you are reading this, you know I'm unhappy. You don't have to ask me how I'm doing. You already know. I just don't see myself acting unhappy as helpful to my cause. Honestly, sometimes I find it easier to act happy rather than act sad. Being depressed is exhausting and I have enough on my plate with Molly.
When I hang around in groups of friends, I've been getting a bit anxious. I don't fear my friends nor do I worry about how they see me. I just don't want to be a buzz-kill. The next two weekends are going to be a LOT of fun. Even in my miserable state, I know this. Good friends, good times. My biggest fear is that, as a muffin in cupcake's clothing, I let my bran show and bum everyone out. *Note: Yes, that is a pun. Please do with it as you may. I think I'm funny.*
So if you are reading this, and you are hanging out with me over the next two weekends, I'll try my best to warn you if there is going to be bran all over the place but otherwise, expect a cupcake.
I get it.
Feel free to argue with either of us about this, but it really isn't going to get you anywhere. We are pretty set in our 'muffins contain bran' ways.
This weekend I am hosting one of my best friend's bachelor parties. With the help of my other great friends, we have devised a weekend full of good times, good friends, and lots of mayhem. I figure that that is what a bachelor party is (only usually there are women there who are paid to take their clothes off. With low enough self-esteem, I'm sure someone in our crowd can get drunk enough to oblige the stereotype). I'm making muffins for our Sunday brunch. I haven't figured out what kind yet, but I can tell you that I can't eat bran. (Flax is my bran substitute and I will be adding that so we can call these muffins 'muffins').
Most of my friends see me as a cupcake. I'm cute, small, funny, and usually covered in sprinkles. I give off the persona that I'm happy (like a vanilla cupcake with pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles). These days, I feel more like a muffin. I'm not feeling my pink frosting and sprinkles, and quite frankly I'm as bland as bran on the inside. Can one put bran into a cupcake and still call it a cupcake? One could frost a muffin or then it would be a cupcake? A cupcake with bran should really be a muffin with some makeup. I've made cupcakes without frosting before and no, they are not muffins! (Now I've just confused you all).
What I'm trying to say, (muffin and cupcake analogy aside), is that my looks are deceiving. I'm not trying to trick anyone on purpose but I feel that moping around can't help anyone. Seriously, when was the last time you wanted to hang around with a wet blanket? Right?!
I would like to hope that giving the impression of happiness would eventually lead to happiness. So far, you will all be pleased to know, that it hasn't hurt. I know that there are arguments for me being true to myself and I should give the impression of my self that I really am. Realistically speaking, I don't see much benefit in that. If you are reading this, you know I'm unhappy. You don't have to ask me how I'm doing. You already know. I just don't see myself acting unhappy as helpful to my cause. Honestly, sometimes I find it easier to act happy rather than act sad. Being depressed is exhausting and I have enough on my plate with Molly.
When I hang around in groups of friends, I've been getting a bit anxious. I don't fear my friends nor do I worry about how they see me. I just don't want to be a buzz-kill. The next two weekends are going to be a LOT of fun. Even in my miserable state, I know this. Good friends, good times. My biggest fear is that, as a muffin in cupcake's clothing, I let my bran show and bum everyone out. *Note: Yes, that is a pun. Please do with it as you may. I think I'm funny.*
So if you are reading this, and you are hanging out with me over the next two weekends, I'll try my best to warn you if there is going to be bran all over the place but otherwise, expect a cupcake.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Chocolate Cupcakes
So, I didn't have time to make fresh chocolate cupcakes for Jess today. I still have some from last weekend. They aren't super yummy but they are still edible.
Instead of finding chocolate cake mix, I took a few moments of serenity and relaxed with one of my best friends last night. We talked about life and laughed a LOT. We enjoyed a therapeutic yummy dinner (with cocktails) and just took some time to relish in our good company. After dinner was over and cleaned up, I crashed out...mentally. I don't usually fall asleep very easily and this has become a norm for me. I can't understand why, after a wonderful day, I still cry myself to sleep.
Do I feel guilty about not making the cupcakes for Jess?
Should I?
Is my dark (chocolatey) side released as a result of my depression?
Recently, I haven't been feeling like myself. I have days where I float through my activities and have no awareness of myself. One could argue that this is the result of being a full-time mother, but I think even full-time Moms know who they are at the end of the day. This feeling scares me.
I wouldn't go as far as saying that I'm dissociative or that I'm suffering a split-personality but I know that my depressive side comes to haunt me most after I take time for myself.
I grew up with a lot of guilt. This mostly comes from a desire to seek approval from my parents and peers. I know this about my personality. I've been reminded of it multiple times and it has come back to bite me in the ass. I don't want to be the one to stir the shit or hurt anyone's feelings so I take the blame for a lot of things in hopes that I can look past it and move on faster.
My chocolatey side is getting tired of this.
I've been feeling less guilty for things that would previously have made me feel guilty. I've been passing through arguments without processing the meanings (unless the person I'm arguing with stops me and calls me out). All of this in hopes to move through this awkward interaction and get onto feeling something again. Without the guilt nagging at me, I just don't feel anything.
You know that feeling when you eat too much chocolate and you get a really awful stomach ache? I used to get that when I didn't feel like I was living up to other's expectations. My chocolatey side has released me from that (to a point). I don't feel like I want to intentionally harm someone but I don't feel like I should go out of my way to appease anyone other than myself.
My chocolate side isn't really all that bad. I feel protected from feelings that used to drive me nuts and chocolate is always yummy. The downside to being chocolate is that there is a fine line between just enough and over doing it. I'm hoping that my depressive chocolatey goodness manages to keep me satiated rather than turn me into a sugared up tummy ache monster.
Instead of finding chocolate cake mix, I took a few moments of serenity and relaxed with one of my best friends last night. We talked about life and laughed a LOT. We enjoyed a therapeutic yummy dinner (with cocktails) and just took some time to relish in our good company. After dinner was over and cleaned up, I crashed out...mentally. I don't usually fall asleep very easily and this has become a norm for me. I can't understand why, after a wonderful day, I still cry myself to sleep.
Do I feel guilty about not making the cupcakes for Jess?
Should I?
Is my dark (chocolatey) side released as a result of my depression?
Recently, I haven't been feeling like myself. I have days where I float through my activities and have no awareness of myself. One could argue that this is the result of being a full-time mother, but I think even full-time Moms know who they are at the end of the day. This feeling scares me.
I wouldn't go as far as saying that I'm dissociative or that I'm suffering a split-personality but I know that my depressive side comes to haunt me most after I take time for myself.
I grew up with a lot of guilt. This mostly comes from a desire to seek approval from my parents and peers. I know this about my personality. I've been reminded of it multiple times and it has come back to bite me in the ass. I don't want to be the one to stir the shit or hurt anyone's feelings so I take the blame for a lot of things in hopes that I can look past it and move on faster.
My chocolatey side is getting tired of this.
I've been feeling less guilty for things that would previously have made me feel guilty. I've been passing through arguments without processing the meanings (unless the person I'm arguing with stops me and calls me out). All of this in hopes to move through this awkward interaction and get onto feeling something again. Without the guilt nagging at me, I just don't feel anything.
You know that feeling when you eat too much chocolate and you get a really awful stomach ache? I used to get that when I didn't feel like I was living up to other's expectations. My chocolatey side has released me from that (to a point). I don't feel like I want to intentionally harm someone but I don't feel like I should go out of my way to appease anyone other than myself.
My chocolate side isn't really all that bad. I feel protected from feelings that used to drive me nuts and chocolate is always yummy. The downside to being chocolate is that there is a fine line between just enough and over doing it. I'm hoping that my depressive chocolatey goodness manages to keep me satiated rather than turn me into a sugared up tummy ache monster.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Vanilla Cupcakes
Every Tuesday and Thursday my daughter Molly and I go to visit my sister-in-law, Jess for a couple hours in the afternoon. On Tuesdays we make pizza for dinner and on Thursdays, we decorate cupcakes.
Every week Jess asks for the same thing, chocolate cupcakes.
After making chocolate cupcakes for three consecutive weeks, I've started to get a bit tired of the same old thing. This week, luck was in my favour, and when I went to buy chocolate cupcakes mix, the store was all out. I bought vanilla instead.
Truth be told, I still have time to run out and grab a box of chocolate cupcake mix and to make my sister-in-law happy. (If anyone who eats these cupcakes has a strong opinion either way, please share it because we need a third party vote and Molly doesn't count).
Recently, I've been unhappy with my routine. I do the same thing almost everyday. I don't mind the little tasks or projects, and I don't mind playing with Molly. The repetition of my daily tasks and outings have left me feeling unchallenged and questioning my purpose and my life.
To put simply, I'm experiencing an existential crisis cupcake with a light smearing of approval seeking frosting, and a smattering of depression sprinkles.
This life "cupcake" is not a new dessert in my life. I've been sucking back these cupcakes since I was 22, and unofficially diagnosed with celiac disease.
Back in my young and stupid days, I was suffering from unbelievable stomach upset. Nothing helped; I slept a LOT; and I never got answers as to what was wrong with me. Instead I took control and killed Gluten and Dairy from my diet, began running, and was dosed with a light smattering of constipating antidepressants. Everything helped but was more of a downstream solution rather than fixing the problem before it happened.
They say that 'hindsight is 20/20'. Although I have no regrets, I would have made some changes earlier and educated myself better. I also should have invested more time to therapy rather than speaking to the University councillors. I guess that that's everyone's answer. Luckily, I feel that my celiac disease has made me stronger and definitely more aware of my body. Being so in tune with my body has been the saving grace throughout my postpartum experience. I have been able to identify my weaknesses and worked on them to make me stronger both mentally and physically. I hope that I have gained enough understanding of my 'self' over the last 28 years, that I can begin to nip my mental and physical illnesses in the bud.
Today I went to the doctor to get a referral for a psychotherapist. The referral was sent off and I was told by the kind folks at Toronto East General Hospital Mental Health Department to call back tomorrow, after they can sort out the paperwork. Okay!
Seeing a psychotherapist is going to, hopefully, answer some of my questions like: Are there only vanilla or chocolate cupcakes out there? Can I swirl them? (Or, more seriously: Are there tools I can use to help improve my way of life so that I'm feeling less bored, more fulfilled, and overall happier?) It is also going to break up my routine a bit. :)
So, although we love chocolate cupcakes, every-so-often, vanilla can't be that bad. Can it?
Seeking the help of a professional is going to be change for the better. I'm not saying that vanilla is better but I've always been more of a vanilla fan. If I find that vanilla isn't working anymore, I'll change it back up chocolate or go for something funky like that vanilla/chocolate swirl.
Every week Jess asks for the same thing, chocolate cupcakes.
After making chocolate cupcakes for three consecutive weeks, I've started to get a bit tired of the same old thing. This week, luck was in my favour, and when I went to buy chocolate cupcakes mix, the store was all out. I bought vanilla instead.
Truth be told, I still have time to run out and grab a box of chocolate cupcake mix and to make my sister-in-law happy. (If anyone who eats these cupcakes has a strong opinion either way, please share it because we need a third party vote and Molly doesn't count).
Recently, I've been unhappy with my routine. I do the same thing almost everyday. I don't mind the little tasks or projects, and I don't mind playing with Molly. The repetition of my daily tasks and outings have left me feeling unchallenged and questioning my purpose and my life.
To put simply, I'm experiencing an existential crisis cupcake with a light smearing of approval seeking frosting, and a smattering of depression sprinkles.
This life "cupcake" is not a new dessert in my life. I've been sucking back these cupcakes since I was 22, and unofficially diagnosed with celiac disease.
Back in my young and stupid days, I was suffering from unbelievable stomach upset. Nothing helped; I slept a LOT; and I never got answers as to what was wrong with me. Instead I took control and killed Gluten and Dairy from my diet, began running, and was dosed with a light smattering of constipating antidepressants. Everything helped but was more of a downstream solution rather than fixing the problem before it happened.
They say that 'hindsight is 20/20'. Although I have no regrets, I would have made some changes earlier and educated myself better. I also should have invested more time to therapy rather than speaking to the University councillors. I guess that that's everyone's answer. Luckily, I feel that my celiac disease has made me stronger and definitely more aware of my body. Being so in tune with my body has been the saving grace throughout my postpartum experience. I have been able to identify my weaknesses and worked on them to make me stronger both mentally and physically. I hope that I have gained enough understanding of my 'self' over the last 28 years, that I can begin to nip my mental and physical illnesses in the bud.
Today I went to the doctor to get a referral for a psychotherapist. The referral was sent off and I was told by the kind folks at Toronto East General Hospital Mental Health Department to call back tomorrow, after they can sort out the paperwork. Okay!
Seeing a psychotherapist is going to, hopefully, answer some of my questions like: Are there only vanilla or chocolate cupcakes out there? Can I swirl them? (Or, more seriously: Are there tools I can use to help improve my way of life so that I'm feeling less bored, more fulfilled, and overall happier?) It is also going to break up my routine a bit. :)
So, although we love chocolate cupcakes, every-so-often, vanilla can't be that bad. Can it?
Seeking the help of a professional is going to be change for the better. I'm not saying that vanilla is better but I've always been more of a vanilla fan. If I find that vanilla isn't working anymore, I'll change it back up chocolate or go for something funky like that vanilla/chocolate swirl.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Mini Cheesecakes
As mentioned in my previous post, I love to bake.
Recently my good friend Emma (no not me, I do actually have a good friend named Emma who also has a baby, and yes, she does exist. I'm nuts but not completely out to lunch), celebrated a birthday. To celebrate, I made her batch of mini cheesecakes with Oreo cookie crusts. They were awesome! I liked them so much, I made another batch this week.
Next weekend, I'm going on a 'girls weekend' with Emma (yes, the not made up one), and our friend Fiona. I'm super excited to spend some time hanging out with my pals and pigging out on whatever I can bake and fit in the car.
I'm sure many of you are wondering, "Doesn't she work in the fitness industry?". The answer is yes, I do. I'm an interesting paradox whereas I live to both exercise and eat anything I can my hands on. I guess some would say that I exercise so I can eat, but I don't say that. If I didn't exercise, I would still eat. Ask my husband about what I can eat. He's seen me eat on such an epic proportion that I would give the professional hotdog eaters a run for their money.
Here's the thing though, society today celebrates body image as a virtue. Thin is in; diet this, don't eat that; guilt guilt guilt...blah, blah, blah. Unless you are working towards a healthier version of yourself, indulging in the mantra that a certain figure will ultimately increase your self worth is ridiculous. Your health determines your self-worth.
(Side note: Often times, a healthier version of a person is a thinner version. I'm not speaking to that type of thin. I'm talking to the unrealistic images we see in magazines and on TV. All those on a fat-loss crusade, I get it and I'm 100% supportive of fat-loss for health and fitness).
Thin people hate themselves; fat people hate themselves. The problem is that people hate themselves PERIOD.
Are we giving ourselves reasons to be unhappy?
If so, why?
Why do we allow ourselves to be swallowed by the guilt surrounding our behaviour towards striving to acquire a certain body image portrayed by the masses?
Does this theory work in reverse? Meaning, if I praise my 'self' will I be happy?
I can think of a million reasons why people are unhappy and unfortunately, most of the time, it comes down to body image. "I hate the way I look", "I hate the way my body moves", "I hate my hair-line", "I hate my obscenely large baby toe".
My unhappiness stems from the external rather than the internal; but I suppose everyone's does too. People wouldn't hate their bodies if they weren't surrounded by mediums enforcing the negative.
According to my Mom, my grandfather used to say, (in a super awesome Polish accent), "If you don't have your health, you don't have anything."
He's right.
I also believe that mental illness is included in that phrase.
I'm taking the rest of the day to reflect on positive body image to see if making myself feel good about my body, makes me feel good about my self. It can't hurt and it means more cheesecake!
Recently my good friend Emma (no not me, I do actually have a good friend named Emma who also has a baby, and yes, she does exist. I'm nuts but not completely out to lunch), celebrated a birthday. To celebrate, I made her batch of mini cheesecakes with Oreo cookie crusts. They were awesome! I liked them so much, I made another batch this week.
Next weekend, I'm going on a 'girls weekend' with Emma (yes, the not made up one), and our friend Fiona. I'm super excited to spend some time hanging out with my pals and pigging out on whatever I can bake and fit in the car.
I'm sure many of you are wondering, "Doesn't she work in the fitness industry?". The answer is yes, I do. I'm an interesting paradox whereas I live to both exercise and eat anything I can my hands on. I guess some would say that I exercise so I can eat, but I don't say that. If I didn't exercise, I would still eat. Ask my husband about what I can eat. He's seen me eat on such an epic proportion that I would give the professional hotdog eaters a run for their money.
Here's the thing though, society today celebrates body image as a virtue. Thin is in; diet this, don't eat that; guilt guilt guilt...blah, blah, blah. Unless you are working towards a healthier version of yourself, indulging in the mantra that a certain figure will ultimately increase your self worth is ridiculous. Your health determines your self-worth.
(Side note: Often times, a healthier version of a person is a thinner version. I'm not speaking to that type of thin. I'm talking to the unrealistic images we see in magazines and on TV. All those on a fat-loss crusade, I get it and I'm 100% supportive of fat-loss for health and fitness).
Thin people hate themselves; fat people hate themselves. The problem is that people hate themselves PERIOD.
Are we giving ourselves reasons to be unhappy?
If so, why?
Why do we allow ourselves to be swallowed by the guilt surrounding our behaviour towards striving to acquire a certain body image portrayed by the masses?
Does this theory work in reverse? Meaning, if I praise my 'self' will I be happy?
I can think of a million reasons why people are unhappy and unfortunately, most of the time, it comes down to body image. "I hate the way I look", "I hate the way my body moves", "I hate my hair-line", "I hate my obscenely large baby toe".
My unhappiness stems from the external rather than the internal; but I suppose everyone's does too. People wouldn't hate their bodies if they weren't surrounded by mediums enforcing the negative.
According to my Mom, my grandfather used to say, (in a super awesome Polish accent), "If you don't have your health, you don't have anything."
He's right.
I also believe that mental illness is included in that phrase.
I'm taking the rest of the day to reflect on positive body image to see if making myself feel good about my body, makes me feel good about my self. It can't hurt and it means more cheesecake!
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