Little things, big meanings

A couple of days ago a friend posted a comment about cooking for a freezer and how she doesn't have time and I may have word vomited on her about my process for doing so.  In particular I was a bit evangelical about a product.

I will stress here that I am not paid anything for this blog and I don't do brand deals in part because no one has asked me to do brand deals but I probably wouldn't even if they did...but I would for this one and you'll see why.

Before we get to the product and why I word vomited at my friend about it lets back up and give you a bit of context.

When I was growing up I grew up associating kitchens and cooking with love, family and magic.  My grandmothers and Mom were all great cooks and they passed on their knowledge while I took pleasure in learning. Measuring out ingredients, trying new things, experimenting...all these things made me happy and I loved to cook.

When I got married I brought my love of cooking into the marriage.  My husband was and is a good cook himself and in the early days we occasionally fought over who got to cook.  However, unbeknownst to me my days of cooking family meals were not to last very long.

When I was 14/15 I came down with a flu like illness.  Sometime after that my parents got used to finding me asleep on the couch before school (fully dressed and ready but somehow falling asleep every few minutes), and again finding me asleep on the couch when they got home from work.

My energy seemed to be going down and I fought to stay awake in classes and struggled with forgetting words.  My parents were concerned and my Mom took me to the doctor a few times to get my thyroid tested but it was always fine.

I kept getting sick.  Each time I got sick it seemed to last longer and lay me out harder. I fought on and got through it mostly.

By the time I got married and moved to England other symptoms were happening. I complained about constant pain in all my joints, but especially my hands. It felt like my hands were swollen when they weren't and so painful I couldn't close my hands. I often felt dizzy and the cognitive issues I had had before became worse. My husband talked me into seeing the doctor and after many tests and seeing a rheumatologist it was determined I had Fibromyaliga.

During this time and the years that followed I became less and less independent. I struggled to take the bus, to carry things, to walk very far.  I had to start using a cane to walk any significant distance, in some places I have had to borrow motorized scooters and recently, thanks to the generosity of a friend, I have had to have a wheelchair for when it gets really bad. It is also acknowledged by all the doctors involved in my treatment that I will never be able to hold down a job again despite the government not agreeing with that assessment.

Though every loss of independence has been a blow the hardest came early on.  I could no longer cook.

Oh sure I could heat things up on the stove but chopping vegetables was painful, and anything that required me to stand for more than a few minutes was too much for me to handle. Pans and pots were too heavy and sometimes even holding crockery was enough to bring tears to my eyes from the stabbing pain in my hands.

It was devastating.

It didn't help that I had also struggled my entire life with Chronic Depression and Anxiety.  The loss of my independence and my coming to terms with being disabled exacerbated my mental illness which in turn prevented me eating well through apathy.

After the birth of my son I got treatment for my mental health which improved considerably and I got better treatment for my fibromyalgia which meant that while my symptoms didn't necessarily improve I was better able to manage them.

I still couldn't cook though.

Until....I saw a product at the local supermarket that looked handy.  It was a plastic jug with a clip on lid that had a vent on the top you could open an close with a click.  It was microwave and freezer safe and I thought it would be handy so I picked it up.

Turns out I was wrong; it wasn't handy.

It was a life changer.

I ended up buying more (and I think we have about six or seven now) because combine this with pre chopped frozen vegetables and tinned beans and tinned tomatoes and suddenly I was able to cook.  I was able to cook healthy food for myself and freeze it in portions that I could handle in a container that made it easy for me.

All I had to was throw the vegetables, tinned beans, tinned tomatoes and some spices and vegetable stock (made from a low sodium vegetable stock cube) into one huge pot, bring to a boil and let simmer for at least an hour stirring occasionally and BAM! I had a tasty healthy soup/stew depending on how much stock I used.  But it was the microwave pots that made the biggest difference.

In the past if we froze something it was either in bags or in microwave dishes that didn't have handles.  This created a problem for me.  Transferring things into heavy bowls using hot pads meant I more often than not just made do with a sandwich or nothing at all. I'm clumsy at the best of times but when my fibromyalgia flares it's worse than usual.  Also normal freezing/reheating creates a lot of washing up that I often physically could not do.  The pots changed that.  With them all I had to do was stick it straight into the microwave, heat, take off the top and eat.  Leaving me with very little washing up, usually just the mug and spoon and sometimes not even the spoon.  Suddenly I had a lot more independence and my self esteem improved so much.  Even if I don't have anything frozen I can still use them to heat up a tin of soup.  It means I'm not as dependent on my husband to help me with food and in turn that has notched my self esteem right up.

I can't cook like I used to or want to.  I never will be able to make complete meals for my family, at least not very often...but I can cook something and I have a bit of my independence back and it's because of something so small and stupid and inconsequential as a microwave soup mug.

Learning to live with chronic pain has taught me to value the little pieces of our lives that we take for granted.  There are many things I would love to be able to do again.  Dance, run, go for long walks, work, cook a family meal every night...but I can't...and I won't be able to do any of these things again really but anything that gives me a piece back...just a small taste of what I had....that's gold, that's freedom, that's happiness.

If anyone who has chronic pain thinks they would find this useful you can find the product here the brand is Sistema but I know Tesco do their own version for cheaper but I don't know how good they because I haven't tried them myself.

Grief and New Years Resolutions

2015 saw the loss of my Uncle, one of the kindest and bravest men who has ever lived and my Grandma Betty, one of the quirkiest and again kindest people I have known.

I carry them with me still so going into this new year instead of making resolutions about doing certain activities or losing weight I'm going to take on lessons they taught me.

1. I resolve to be kind


Kind to myself as well as kind to others.  Care about other people and try to help in my own quiet way. Forgive myself for my mistakes and treat myself with the kindness they always showed me.

2. I resolve to listen

To take time to really listen to what others are telling me, especially my kid.  It's too easy to let the babble wash over you without taking it in.  Both my Uncle and Grandmother made me feel like they really listened to me and I know how important that was for me growing up.

3. I resolve to be strong

To stand up for myself quietly but firmly.  Especially when they bully is my own mind.

4. I resolve to tell the people in my life everyday that I love them.

No explanation needed.

This body

So yesterday I was going to take a shower and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  As usual I winced and looked away.

Then I stopped.

I have learned that my face is not hideous but not my body. I still wince when I see myself and tell myself how ugly I am.

Yes I have a loving husband who tells me I'm beautiful but I of course don't listen to him.  This time I thought of that and thought of how I know my brain is not a reliable source when it comes to myself. So I looked at myself.  All the parts of me that were lumpy or saggy or odd or different and I said to myself.

"This is the body my husband loves.  This is the body that he thinks is beautiful.  This body is the one that makes him smile.  This body is the one he loves to hold.  This body, how it is now, is what he doesn't want to share.  This body, as it is, is what he wants. This body is beautiful to someone."

My husband is a much better judge of things then me, so when I see myself in the mirror and I want to wince and look away and tell myself how I'm ugly I'm going to stop and look at myself and remind myself that there is a person who finds me beautiful....and if I tell myself that enough maybe I'll start to see it too.

What I want for Christmas

I just turned 32 and had a really great birthday.

Like just the best.

It was great not because I got a ton of presents or what have you.  It was great because of the family around me. The book I received from my parents was great not because it was good (though it's an awesome gift) but because my Mom clearly thought of me and what I love when choosing it.  The chocolate bears from my son were special because he was so excited to give them to me.  The rest of the day was spent with my in-laws and spending quality time with them which was great.  They are my family just as much as my parents and sisters are.  I even got some wonderful quality time with my niece which was wonderful. Following that up with a phonecall to my parents and my grandmother was really great.

 Presents are just things, those connections with the people I love is worth far far more than any gift.

I am really lucky I have so many fabulous people in my life that care about me.

I'm so very grateful not only that I have them, but that I can appreciate that they care about me. Anyone who has suffered from depression knows how hard it is to believe that you have value, that people care about it.  To understand that I am loved and to accept that as true is huge for me. I am glad I have that.

To all of my family and friends, know that I love you.  You matter to me, you are important to me and I care so deeply about you all. Please love yourself.  You deserve it.

That's what I want for Christmas, for all my friends and family to know that they are loved and that they deserve love and can accept love.  Because every last one of you deserve happiness, love and kindness.

Remembering

This year saw the death of two people in my family who were very important to me.  One death was my Uncle at the end of August but didn't really hit as real until the beginning of November.  The other was only two days ago and was my paternal Grandma.

The combined grief led to me having to "reboot" as I call it where I stayed in bed for pretty much an entire day. I didn't have any studying that I had to do and we managed to obtain help for Charlie and I had a guilt free day of just coming to terms with my grief.  The grief for both them are forever going to be tied together not just because of the timeline but because of what they both meant to me. 

You see I was the weird child in a weird family.  My family loved me (I never doubted that) but I often felt like no one really listened to me.  As an adult I get it, I have a very creative and chatty 6 year old myself and I know that at some point in the rambling constant stories you check out and just let the noise wash over you. I get it, especially when you're busy...but at 6 I didn't get it.  I just felt like no one really listened to me.  

I was also quiet in a really bizarre way.  I could be loud and obnoxious (I was the youngest child after all) but I kept secrets that perhaps I shouldn't have and again I didn't understand why no one could see I was hurting or lonely or sad even though I wouldn't tell them I felt any of those things.  

Goddamnit.  I really made things harder for myself as a kid.

ANYWAY.

To top it off I didn't really feel like I fit in with my family in my home town.  Oh in some ways I totally did but in many others I felt I didn't. It was like I was running at a similar wavelength but not quite the same.  It was difficult for me.

Uncle Renn and Grandma Betty though were my mental anchors.   They both made me feel like they really listened to me and really saw me. I felt I was more in tune with them then with a lot of the rest of my family.  They made me feel like I belonged when I felt I didn't even belong to my family.  They made me a place to be weird and unusual and eccentric even by my families standards and they made me feel like I was okay the way I was.

I always felt like they had my back which as a lonely child was so important. 

I would like to stress again here that my family did love me and try to support me as best they could and I made it damned difficult for them to do so, so I am not condemning them.  It's bit related to the fact that I didn't have a lot of friends because I made it very difficult to be my friend. Same deal, I made it very difficult for my family to understand me.

Renn made me feel valued and important.

My memories of him mostly revolve around family gatherings where he would talk to me like an adult and listen to my answers.  He took me to the ocean on a short holiday when I was a teenager and that was brilliant, he took my sister and me to the fourth of July celebrations in the park where we embarrassed my sister by dancing and where I got to move around the gun of a tank (it was awesome.) I remember him making me laugh and just generally being kind and making me feel valued.

Grandma made me feel like no matter what she was in my corner fighting for me.  I'm sure she took us out places when we visited her for a few weeks every summer but that's not what I remember.  I remember sitting in her kitchen eating pancakes, playing in the back yard.  I remember going to the grocery store with her or sitting in her living room watching terrible movies we got out of Blockbuster and making fun of them.  (Hey sis remember that awful fantasy movie with the floating head that said Ciao a lot?) I remember telling her a story where every other line was "and the peasants rejoiced!" said with a dance.  I remember telling her how dad told us about him and his siblings climbing a bridge near her house and her calling up all her children to yell at them.  I remember always getting letters from her and her encouraging my writing by talking to me as a fellow writer.  Of her eccentricities which were so like mine.  Everyone said me and Grandma Betty were very similar and we were.  She gave me my first dragon statue (which is the only one I brought with me to England) she knew me when I didn't know myself.

This year I lost the two people who saw me and heard me clearly when I was growing up despite the amount of effort that took. (Seriously looking back on it and seeing it in my own kid I clearly thought everyone was psychic...maybe that's because I was 8 before I stopped believing everyone was secretly a fictional character in a book being read by person who might close the book and make us all disappear and who could only be stopped from closing the book if I turned the page every night...  Jesus Christ I'm crazy.) 

I'm sad and I'm going to have weeping fits and I think I'm going to find next autumn very difficult. But...I'm going to to do my best to remember my Uncle and Grandma the way they would want me to: by following their example of kindness and maybe stop tuning out my kids hundredth very involved story about FooFoo land and really listen to and see the people around me.  Because everyone deserves to feel valued and important.

A love letter to my husband

After 11 years my husband are still in love but are less of the cutesy love. I had seen these adverts for a "reasons I love you" book to give your significant other.  *gag* My husband and I agreed that we would never want to be so cheesy and sickly sweet in our marriage (now) so as an ode to my husband I present:

The Horrible Reasons I love you.

Dat ass.  

You torture spiders to death...you monster.

History will condemn you for not stopping me.

But dat ass tho.  

As this year closes

For the last few years in December I have come up with a list of good things about the previous year. Each year it grew to match the years number.  So 2010 I made a list of 10 things and 2011 I made a list of a 11 things and so on.  

It was a good and helpful tool in perspective. This year I'm going to do things slightly differently. 

This has in a lot of ways been a shitty year.  A lot of people I love have been in hospital and at the time of writing one death this last year, there may be another before years end. That makes it hard to make a list of good things when so much sadness happened.

I'm still going to do my list of 15 good things about 2015 but I'm going to do it later and with my family.   What I'm going to do for me is instead reflect on the positive changes I made in my life in the last year by examining my fears and obstacles and how I over came them.  So here we go:

Fear of Failure: A lot of my life has been characterised by my fear of failing.  At times in my life it got so bad I froze and lost my ability to try.  Last year I took the plunge and started with the Open University as a part time student in order to get my degree in History. This year I completed my first level one course in May in adverse conditions.  I not only passed but I had good marks.  If I had let my fear of failure rule me I never would have even begun it.  I learned courage.

Fear of Asking for Help/Admitting Limits: I have been ambitious this year and tired to be active on the Friends committee at my child's school as well as continuing my education and redecorating the house.  However, instead of letting my sense of obligation let me run my health into the ground I have tried to express to my family, the people of the friends group, and my tutor that sometimes I can't do what I said I would do or that I need to take a step back.  It always sucks when I do that but I am speaking up when I need to instead of crashing.  No one has made me feel bad for doing that and I have been able to do at least some instead of crashing and being bed bound. I have learned trust.

Self Doubt: I have believed horrible things about myself for a lot of my life and a lot of that is believing that I'm a failure, or worthless, or a fuck up. I passed my schooling, I have supported my family emotionally and I have been able to organise and help around the house as much as I am capable of which is more than I had previously believed.  Every time my depression tries to tell me that I'm worthless I remind my self of what I have accomplished. I learned to believe in myself.

My life has improved remarkably in the last year I am much more confident, much stronger and much happier in general than I used to be.  A lot of this year was shitty but a lot of personal growth and friendship and love and happiness to.  I'm glad I was able to see more than the dark and maybe that's the biggest obstacle I've overcome.  During the years of depression I could only see the darkness around me and was unable to see the good things.  Now I can see both and the good makes the bad easier to bear.  So I'm thankful I see life more clearly than I used to.