Back to regular programming ... sort of

The last time I did individual therapy, right after that last suicide attempt, my therapist made me read this book and do the exercises in it. For years I have struggled to remember the name of the book but today I decided to do a search on Amazon and found it instantly. With all that has been going on, I figure that it can't hurt to give it another read so I ordered it -- along with some knitting books. From what I remember, the book is all about how women are trained to be caretakers and along the way we forget to take care of ourselves. This is turn leads to self-esteem issues. So it's all about taking care of one's self. And learning to better handle one's various emotional triggers.

And I needed books. And knitting stuff. Because starting tomorrow evening, I will be dogsitting Dumb and Dumber for the weekend. This means no cable TV. So I'll be loading up on DVDs and books for the weekend. And some knitting.

There has also been some food around here this week.

Chicken casserole.

Marcia is always recommending casseroles. This was inspired by the one they make at Poulet. It has farfalle, diced chicken breast, peas, sauteed mushrooms, and a parmesan bechemel sauce.


This is what happens when you're not patient. Note the broken crust. I would have put the missing pieces back but they hit the floor.

When I went grocery shopping on Sunday, I got really excited over the berries. I thought to myself, "I should make a tart to take to work." But after making the casserole -- and cleaning and doing laundry -- I just didn't have the energy to make the tart. Monday was tutoring night so I didn't get in until 9:30. Last night? Well, y'all know I was pretty fried last night. It had to be tonight. But then I got impatient and took it out of the pan before it had cooled enough. And it broke. *sigh* I'm usually so patient. But I know it tastes good. So they'll probably eat it anyway.

So through all the craziness, I managed to cook some food. I had a pretty kickass day at work today. Oh yeah, and I'm inspired to knit once more. And that tells me that all is not lost yet. That and the fact that I can still laugh. Because believe me when I say that when you have lost the ability to laugh and joke? Well, you might as well just check yourself in.

A hot mess

Today at lunchtime, I went to my appointment at Thrive. And as a result, I have decided that I am a hot mess on the inside.

Twenty years ago, Thrive was all about the individual therapy. Nowadays they push the group thing. So imagine my surprise when after laying out some of the basics for the doctor, he immediately asked how I felt about individual therapy. Because he kind of thinks that I need weekly therapy. And maybe some groups as well. So yeah. That's where I am. Oh, and I did tell him no meds.

This evening I kind of discussed it all with Zombie Mom. She pointed out something of which I am perfectly aware but many who know me don't recognize. I have mad coping skills. This means that even when I'm falling apart completely, I can appear to have all my shit together. And by the time that other people realize how far gone I am, it's almost too late. I guess it's a by-product of growing up in a household in which things were not always discussed. I also learned compartmentalization and manipulation during those years. (Some days I think to myself that I should have gone into acting. Because I can convincingly become someone else with relative ease. Or maybe a grifter...) I like to think of them as survival skills and so I often fall back on them in times of stress, especially the first. But I'm getting better about that. Remember that recent girls' night? Oh, and my birthday last year? Both occasions were filled with people whom I've gotten to know in a variety of ways. In the past, I would have kept these groups separate.

Further proof of my coping skills. I've been letting my mother's calls today go to voicemail. Because I really can't deal with her incessant complaining today. I don't get it. She seems to find happiness in being miserable.

And yes, Zombie Mom, next time I'm there, I'll mention that other issue. That food thing. See, I've always been a little self-destructive. In the past that meant that occasionally I was suicidal. But now I'm a little more passive-aggressive about the whole thing. So I stopped being suicidal but I've kept one of my other self-destructive behaviors all these years. Part of my thinness has to do with genetics. A lot has to do with being aware of what I put into my mouth. And sometimes I just don't eat. There have also been periods in the past of purging. Oh, and then there was the summer of the over-the-counter diet pills. And when I did that I weighed about 20-25 pounds less than I do now. But it's not about food or weight. It's about feeling in control when everything around you feels so out of control.

Ever since the appointment, I have been feeling emotionally raw. These are probably some of my first tears since February. All I know is that I'm glad that my next appointment is in the evening because keeping it together at work after a therapy session can be damned near impossible. But I am the queen of being in control and so by the time I get to work tomorrow, hopefully no one will be the wiser.

Trying to get back on track

First of all, I must say that those months of deep-cleaning, organizing, and purging have paid off. This weekend hit and I realized that things were a mess. But it took me almost time at all to set things straight. I think the longest amount of time was spent doing laundry. So I guess I'm starting to feel a little more under control.

And Sunday afternoon as I walked to Andronico's, I realized something. I used to walk a great deal more when I first moved into my apartment. Maybe it was the novelty of the neighborhood. Many days I drive to Andronico's on my way home from somewhere else. I used to drive home and then walk to Andronico's. So on Sunday, after leaving the laundromat, I drove home first and then later walked to the grocery store. And it made me feel a bit better.

When I lived in San Francisco, I had a Sunday routine. I would get up early and clean. The last part of the cleaning was the refrigerator. I would take stock of the staples that were low. Then I would look through cookbooks and magazines to decide if there was something in particular I wanted to cook for the week. I would then add the "missing" items to my shopping list and head out. After re-stocking the kitchen, I would go out to do laundry, if necessary. And then it was back home to cook. And to relax.

And why all of this? Because I've gained 5-10 pounds in the three years I have lived here. And most of it is around my midsection. So not attractive. I have always said that I had no issue with gaining weight if it was proportionate. But this hasn't been and I'm pissed. And I know that many women would be thrilled to be able to wear a size 4 but most of my wardrobe is actually size 2 with a few pieces that are smaller.

I have a small frame so that excess weight around the middle? Makes me look two to three months pregnant. Really. I worked with a woman who has a similar build and my stomach now looks the same as hers did when she was about three months pregnant.

And yes, I realize that now I am finally in the "normal" range of BMI. I've just gotten used to being underweight because I've been there for way too many years.

There's also some whole other stress as well. A few months ago, there was problems with my Thrive membership because of a missed payment from my job. As I was cleaning up over the weekend, I found yet another letter from Thrive saying that I was no longer a member. I need to call tomorrow morning to check my membership status. Because I might have to cancel my appointment for Tuesday. Which is such bullshit.

Thankfully I've done the therapy thing before. And so I also spent the weekend going over things in my head. I'm burnt because between work and family, my world seems to be filled with people who only know how to say, "I need." (When I go to get my hair done, my stylist always asks what I've heard from this one cousin of mine. My response is, "Apparently she has needed anything lately since that's the only time she ever calls." I realized this a few years ago and just stopped making the effort.) I expect it at work. But at the end of the day, I need something other than that.

Case in point is that my dad's older sister made a huge point of telling me at the end of this past week that I need to do something special for my dad for Father's Day this year. I explained to her that with the exception of last year when I was at Kate's wedding, I always do something special for my dad. My birthday usually falls about a week after Father's Day. I get a check in the mail and a promise of dinner for my birthday. And yeah, it kind of pisses me off. Especially when I hear tales of my dad and stepmother heading down to the Bay Area for my stepbrother's birthday to take him out to dinner. Then again my stepbrother doesn't have a lot of friends so if they didn't show up, he probably would spend his birthday alone. Unlike me. Because when my family has not come through, my friends have always been there.

This rediscovery (I've recognized this in the past. I just temporarily forgot.) has helped a great deal in my mental state. As a result, I have stopped talking to family as much as I had over the past few months. I was just starting to feel like they are sucking me dry. Every now and then they ask how I am but it feels like one of those pleasantries of conversation. And even if it isn't, I know them. To say that I feel like crap is me being selfish once more.

I got evidence of this over the weekend when my aunt asked me if I was coming to the family reunion this summer. Ummm. Nope. I explained to her that plane tickets are expensive and I only get so much vacation time a year. And this year I have decided to use my vacation time doing things that I want to do, not what someone else tells me that I should do. There is a part of me that is somewhat happy after spending time with my mom or my dad and his family. But during the whole experience, I am near miserable. And part of the reason why I want to hold back on my time is that my mother's mother turns 85 tomorrow. I haven't seen her in over three years. And spending time with my grandma and the rest of my mother's family is always a positive thing. Maybe I'll go there for Christmas this year.

And now for other things. Do any of you watch "CSI" -- the original one? What is up with that season finale? Because besides doing all of the above chores, I also did some reading and caught up on stuff on my DVR.

Oh, and there will be proof later in the week that I'm really crawling out of the hole.

Inspired

Perhaps it's been the unusually unseasonable weather we've been having in the Bay Area. All I know is that when I read Heidi's post earlier today, I started having a Veruca Salt moment. OK. Maybe it started earlier in the day when a coworker proclaimed her love of Augustus.

After a couple of hours of retail therapy on Bay Street, I headed home to feed the cats and to start on my mission -- on foot in my ever so stylish Dr. Scholl's. (And I really needed the mission because nothing can make one more depressed than to put on a pair of Diva jeans at Old Navy, look in the mirror and once more feel fat. And yes, I realize that they were size fours and that they basically fit. Because the largest size I bought tonight was a four and they did not look painted on. They looked normal. But I have one word for you -- muffintop. And although Whitney wears a larger size, she does not have muffintop. And ultra-lowrise do not camouflage the muffintop whereas other cuts do.) After hitting the second gelateria that is nearby, I realized that I would have to rethink the plan. OK. Actually there are three gelaterias nearby but I only go to two of them.

Pineapple-tangerine sorbet with rum and club soda.

And of course the whole rum thing got me thinking. What if I got an ice cream maker and started making my own sorbet? Sure there would be the frozen mint juleps. But what about a mint-lime sorbet? See where I'm going with this? Yep. I'm seeing a summer full of sorbet-based drinks.

Of course, there was food with this. Because I'm a fat pig who only thinks of food. Tonight was another stop at Gregoire's. And everyone stressed that I should try something different. But I had to stick with the grilled artichoke and the potato puffs.


Grilled peppercorn ribeye with Roquefort sauce.


And this time I remembered to order the strawberry bread pudding with chocolate cream. Isn't it cute?

Oh, and you want to know what is absolutely horrible? A new mixed use building recently opened around the corner from me. In one of the ground floor windows I saw the planning notice. What are they planning to put in the space? A dessert and wine cafe. How wrong is that?

Serendipity

That's right -- two meals. The first photo is of lunch; the second is dinner. Because this "fat pig" is thinking, "Well hell. That Whitney gained weight on purpose and now she's the new winner of ANTM." And I think that we should all enjoy a meal or two and then tell ourselves how fabulous we are.

Maybe it was finally making that appointment at Thrive. Maybe it was having that fantabulous food yesterday. All I know is that my appetite is back. And last night I had my first normal night of sleep in a long time.

Originally this post was all going to be about the fabulosity of Gallardo's. I blame my coworker. She introduced me to them recently. I still haven't recovered from the fact that they make machaca burritos. I haven't had one of those since I left San Diego. Today's sweltering heat -- Bay Area standards -- did not call for a burrito though. And so I asked my coworker for recommendations. Oh, I'm getting ahead of myself. I thought of the place because her husband had dropped off an order of chilaquiles for her. And it looked and smelled so good. So I went for the #12 -- chicken enchilada and chile relleno. It's a good thing that they're not in my neighborhood. Otherwise, I would be living at the place.

On my way home, I ended up in a conversation with one of my mother's younger sisters about the primaries and whatnot. I was so deep into the conversation that I drove on autopilot. Next thing you know, I was pulling into a primo parking space near my building. And then I remembered that I was supposed to stop for cigarettes on the way home. I weighed my options and decided to keep the parking space. And after feeding the cats, I headed out on foot.

Now, I have a couple of choices for purchasing cigarettes -- one being much less expensive than the other. But I decided to go to the more expensive place because (a) they were closer, and (b) the walk is a bit more interesting. And as I walked past Poulet, I suddenly remembered that I wanted to try their Thursday special for this month. But I needed cigarettes. So after acquiring said cigarettes at the smoke shop -- because Andronico's stopped carrying tobacco products sometime in the last year -- I headed back to Poulet. And then a little voice told me to get a bottle of wine. (I don't think I've mentioned this before. Besides getting wonderful takeaway food, Poulet also offers up bottles of wine.) I was almost home with my bottle of wine and my dinner when a friend yelled from her car. She had just been to my apartment looking for me. So I waited while she parked and then we enjoyed the wine. (See? The little voice knew right.) And I had a yummy dinner after.

Oh, and for those of you who might be still looking for a hotel room for BlogHer, drop me a line. Because that one salesperson did hook me up with her friend who is a manager at another chain. And we chatted today. By sometime next week I should know the rate. Which I'll probably find out over a nice lunch. Yep. If it wasn't for all these sick people, life would be good right now.