Several times between my last post and this one I've been seized with the urge to blog about a topic, but after thinking it over decided against making the effort.
Is this a byproduct of anti-anxiety medication kicking in, this "on second thought" life I seem to be living now?
The other day I found myself enjoying memories of living downtown Ottawa in a one bedroom apartment, my three kids and Kasey (sheltie/beagle) coming every weekend to camp out, my new partner eventually moving in to make us a party of five. This is new, too, looking back on this part of my life as "Hey, I did that!" instead of "Oh dear, I did that...".
So 😊 instead of 😟.
It's not nothing, either, this clean living, part... 4? I've been doing, and although some people would suggest it alone is making the difference in how I feel, I believe the medication led to that, too. I'm paying attention to what I can do for my health now, instead of worrying about others, what I've done, what I might do.
Finally I get it: one day at a time, one foot in front of the other, and not AA's accept the things I cannot change, but Toni Morrison's change the things I cannot accept.
It suits me better at this stage of life. Not reactive, proactive. I've read the opposite of indecision (sometimes mistaken for procrastination, which is quite different) is impulsiveness. I can certainly identify with it, decision-making being paralyzing for me, until boom - I'm living downtown Ottawa in a one bedroom apartment.
But that's not what this entry is about because this entry is about not believing everything you read on the internet, and last week deciding to use a bag of frozen pineapple pieces by way of baking a pineapple upside down cake.
I've returned to baking as a pastime. I grew up with Gram's baking and want to become accomplished at it, particularly sandwich cookies of various types. I've watched Paul, one of the judges on the Great British Baking Show, delight in appreciating - so eating - good baking and aspire to get back to it myself.
Anyway, suffice it to say I followed the recipe on the internet - very carefully - and when I turned the cake out onto a plate, brown sugary buttery slime splashed all over it, the counter, the floor.
I'd basically dolloped cake batter (the cake was sublime, by the way, one of the best I've ever made) over 1/2 cup of melted butter, brown sugar, and pineapple pieces. When I checked the recipe later, yup, that's what it said, but really, I should have realized the mistake. Indeed, I did wonder at no butter actually IN the cake batter, but such a trusting soul of Chef Google am I that I forged ahead.
Fortunately I had a carton of whipping cream - expiry date in February, bought in December? - and the pineapple upside down cake was saved as a... trifle!
Also I live with a 6'/180lb man who's been known to eat gas station pepperoni sticks - by choice. Oh and a dog whose nose then tongue found any lingering bits of brown sugary buttery slime not visible to the human eye.
But here's the part where the medication meets an eating/drinking/drug disorder (even a smoking disorder at times!) - when my partner served me up a bowl of "trifle" the next day, I decided immediately, right in front of him, no sparing of feelings, eye contact made, to return 3/4 of it to the pan. So show him what a serving size for a 5'5"/100lb woman with an eating disorder should be. And I thought it was for him but then realized, "Aha!" it was for me, I am now consciously, deliberately, thoughtfully choosing to do what's best for me, which is also what I want to do, never mind externalities.
In other words, the medication is working, which I find hard to believe, the therapist suggesting it's addressing a chemical imbalance, which I find even harder to believe. But why? Why do I find it hard to believe I've been challenged by a chemical imbalance? Clearly I have been. And whether I always had it or developed it along the way, accidentally, consequentially, who cares?
What's with all the blaming anyway? It's everywhere, too. Someone must always be blamed.
Absurd. Guilt, shame, blame. Rinse, repeat.
And speaking of therapy, also guilt, shame, blame, I thought the panic attacks I was having had to do with others, particularly my mother, childhood, young adulthood, middle adulthood, but now I know they just had to do with me, an imbalance in, not the force, my force.
So now when I look back, which I'm only doing to reclaim it from guilt, shame, blame, it's not "Oh dear, I did that..." (to me, to others) - it's "Hey, I did that!" (for me, for others).
I even did that trick the other day of "I don't have to walk Bernie, I get to walk Bernie."
It's January in Ottawa.
I've reference my mother a lot, too much, and not fairly (widows can be a lot) but she always told me "You have to put yourself first" and "You can't care what other people think"
Well I didn't get it then but I get it now.
Beta blockers for the win.😀
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