Clinical Depression

Everyone who knows me in real life knows that I am a bit different. My sister Natalie says that things are either the best day ever or the worst day of my life depending on what the situation and my mood is. To be sure, I have an extreme personality. But I also struggle with mental illness, one of them called clinical depression.

It helps me to talk about it. One of the hallmarks of this illness is feeling isolated and alone. There have been times in my life where I have purposefully shut people out or withdrawn or found a way to make them run from me because I had so much pain inside and I didn't want to infect them with it. I fear hurting people and being unloved at the same time. It helps me to remind myself that people are on my side, fighting for me if only I will let them. I am still learning how to let them.

Having clinical depression is different than going through a rough patch. There are days when nothing is going wrong in my world, and I will just implode. There's usually one sad thought that I can't shake and I am terrified to share. From there, I do things to distract myself from the thought instead of deal with it and keep getting sadder. Finally, the pain is too much, and I want to end it by killing myself. Sometimes, the sorrow comes out of the blue from past events that I haven't dealt with yet. That's my side order of PTSD. It gets triggered a lot.

Writing about it helps. Going out in public helps. Exercising, doing things I enjoy, and therapy help. Some people use medication or electro shock therapy to fight their depression. I am desperately trying to stay off the drugs. I don't want to deal with the side effects because I already have enough trouble with my body.

I don't want anyone's pitty. I just don't always know how to ask for help. For example, today when I got home from work, I shut my door and cried, journaled, and put myself to bed to keep from harming myself. When I woke up, I didn't feel spectacular, so I went on a run. Both my best friends contacted me, and another friend and I made plans for tomorrow. I really needed plans for tomorrow. By then, I felt like myself again. But this has been going on for a week. And it does effect all areas of my life.

I have been working my treatment plan desperately and created a safety plan at work with my boss this week to try to combat it. It's been a rough week at work for everyone, but my illness blew it up way out of proportion. I feel bad about that, and I wish I could redo a lot of moments in my life when I have been out of control.

Wellness for me will look like being able to take things in stride, being an active part of the world around me, and remembering to embrace those I love. It will look like not pushing people away anymore and being able to stand up for myself in the moment. Clinical depression is treatable, so I have hope. I just have to remind myself of this when I can't remember and I want the pain to end. I don't want to lose this battle.

This isn't the same as being sad. If this sounds familiar to you, I urge you to seek treatment. And if not, please have compassion for people around you. You never know what people face, and we all deal with life differently. Kindness is a language anyone can understand. I am still learning it. Let's practice together.

Lots of love.

Tides

You won't return
I sent you far from me
By asking you to stand and claim me
Can you tell me why I am haunted
By the remembrance of your kiss?

He writes the most beautiful letters
And awaits my return to his Rose city
He says hello every day
And isn't afraid of me
Calls me lovely

Why do I crave you?
Why can't my heart let go?
I should be rejoicing at seeing him,
But all I can think of is you.

Never mind.
I will go through this day without you.
I will tell myself all is well.
I will find beauty in the common.

And one day, the remembrance of you
Won't knock me sideways,
Steal my breath, and place a lump in my throat.
One day, I will forget to love you.
I will learn to want what's good for me.

Today, I still love and want you.

What I love about Jesus

I don't often go to church. There was a time in my life where I basically lived there. I would volunteer to clean, help with children's ministry, lead worship, host potlucks, and sit in prayer for hours. Some of my friends find church boring, but I have never been bored by it. It's always held a fascination for me. From the cathedrals of the Catholic church where my earliest memories of worship were formed to the hip, catered and carefully lit room I just left a few hours ago, sacred gatherings have been a source of comfort to me.

But I don't agree with all the dogma, and I rarely attend these days.

One night when I was praying in one of these sacred places, I went to the window looking out over the central bus station of the city. I watched the mass of humanity coming and going, and I realized I was missing them. I had always been told Jesus died to save humanity, but I was cut off from them. It's been a slow dance back to dwelling among people.

Why I love Jesus is because He "became flesh and made His dwelling among us." He became a Jew, with a funny nose and short stature. He was born out of wedlock. He was a blue collar worker like me. He was homeless for the duration of his ministry. He used mud to heal people, playing in the dirt to save a woman's life long before women's rights was being talked about, and taught theology to an outcast of society (also a woman) at a well. He was common, marginalized, unconventional, brilliant, controversial, and polarizing. He was also compassionate and forgiving when he had no reason to be. I am in love with this man's character and have been as long as I can remember.

Jesus is not a God for the perfect. He didn't come as perfect. He came as imperfectly as humanly possible. He didn't do it right. He died instead of leading a revolution and discharging Rome like Messiah was supposed to. I can love a God who loves and wants me in my imperfections. I can love a God who helps me when I cannot help myself. I can love a God who doesn't condemn me.
Because He loved me first, and yes, there's been evidence in my life to back that up.

I don't go to church often. I like to think that Jesus is still dwelling among us. Common, imperfect, beautiful. I choose to be among "them." That's where I find Jesus.

Lemonade

Yesterday, the kitchen flooded. And then we had no water to cook with from late afternoon until close. Not on the first floor anyway. There was water downstairs and upstairs, so we used that to clean and cook with. We served dinner on paper and plastic plates and utensils. We improvised.

Today, my first clue should have been the lemons my boss gave me. I squeezed lemonade by hand as my first task, but nobody was thirsty for lemonade on a rainy Oregon day. And then, halfway through lunch, my helper had an emergency and had to leave. I didn't have dinner prepped out yet or anything done for Sunday lunch. Anyone who works in food will tell you Sunday lunch is our busiest meal. People get crazy after listening to sermons. I don't know why.

So, I made lemonade all day long. My boss wanted to call someone in. Instead, he worked alongside me. My friend staid an hour late to help, and I ended up leaving only half an hour late. I learned today that I am stronger than I think when it comes to the kitchen if I can just stay calm. I learned that I know my quantities better than I think, and I shouldn't let others question it. I also learned that I am starting to get the timing of this dance called cooking down. It was a bit off today, but I knew it and was able to fudge enough with my boss's help that none of the residents did.

Tomorrow is my Wednesday, and I hope it goes better. My Sous Chef always tells me, "If it were easy, everyone would do it." He's right. I have been complaining lately because it felt too easy. Now I know to just to wait a week. The challenge will come again without fail. It's just what you do with those lemons that determines how it all ends up. I want to try to make something delicious out of them.

Lemonade, anyone?

Loving wrong

I used to think there was no such thing. How could you love the wrong person? How could loving ever be wrong?

But over the years I have loved many a wrong person. They all had something I needed. One was tender, kind, and danced with me as I cooked. Another taught me just to be again, to talk about what I needed, and to not fear my desires and needs. Most recently, he was kind, generous, funny, a constant support to me. All have been in a different life stage than me, with different life goals and miles to go before we could meet at some equal point. And my heart breaks because I do love. But one day, it won't be me forcing anything, or hoping for change.

I am glad for each one. All were dear friends, all are missed. But I want to live now, and if that means going it alone and finding my own strength for now, it's ok. I am still open to love, I just want it to be right next time.

Hello, world. You don't scare me anymore. Nor does traveling through you alone because there are other beautiful people to meet and adventures to be had. May you know that you are loved and stronger than you think.

Your Girlfriend's Favorite Restaurant

I have been seeing these memes floating around Facebook about your girlfriend not knowing what she wants to eat, or her favorite restaurant being, "I don't care." As a woman who loves food and likes to eat, can I just say, I have a few thoughts here.

First of all, if I ever tell you I don't know or I don't care where we eat, it's because I am a cook. I think about food 24/7. I actually do dream about it. Sometimes, I don't want to have to decide yet again for the hungry populous what will be consumed. I just want to sit down with the people I love and relax.

Other times, I know what I don't want to eat. I will NEVER ask you to take me to Shari's, McDonald's, or ice cream. The first two are because I have a rule. I don't want to eat food that I can do a better job cooking than the final product I am served.The last is because I have 45 dietary restrictions, and lactose accounts for a large portion of them. The moral, friends, is to know the person you're with even if they are giving you the freedom to choose the establishment.

Finally, sometimes I just want someone to do something special for me. I want you to pick someplace we can enjoy together. It means I trust your judgement, and I would like you to pamper me, please. It means I don't always have to be in control. Take the compliment, ok?

Lastly, don't be surprised if I have five suggestions of where I would like to eat nine times out of ten. I am still a girl who loves food. Expecting me to say I don't know what I want to eat is setting yourself up for failure in my case. And please, never order for me. This chick likes to taste everything. That's why I became a cook in the first place.

Happy eating with your sweetie.

Surrender

My hands look older than they should. There's the scar on my right hand from dropping a knife on it while I was cleaning, a burn mark on my left from getting too close to hot metal as I was taking food out to the line, dry skin from the constant washing and sanitizing of my hands and the stainless steel world I am most at home in. My hands speak of the manuel labour that I love, the heat of the kitchen I can't get enough of.

The way I eat has changed too. I used to plan elaborate meals for every day of the week. Now, most of my money goes back into my beloved food industry. Or, I will eat cereal, popcorn, a sandwich, anything quick and easy because my feet are sore, my belly is growling, and I have poured all my creative energy into someone else's meal.

I am not upset about it. I love what I do. There are certain things I have surrendered to in this pursuit of this passion. But I think that is what love is. It's a giving over of one's self to something or someone and a willingness to let that surrender change and shape the self. Some of the ways we are transformed are our own choice. I could choose to plan meals and stick to them, but I don't generally. Other things, like the way my hands look, well, those are a gift love has bestowed upon me.

The question then becomes, am I willing to surrender to this person, this experience, this passion and allow it to change me, or is the price too high to pay? Each one of us is confronted with this question whenever we fall in love with anything in our life. For love to grow, it must be nurtured. And in that nurturing comes the surrender.

For me, being in love with feeding people has been frustrating, agonizing, painful, beautiful, gratifying, and worthwhile. There is meaning in it, even though the paycheck is small and the demands are huge. I wouldn't trade this for an easier path because I love it. I hope you feel the same about whatever you decide is worth surrendering to.