February 2007

CANCER (June 21-July 22): In his article “The Evolution of Culture,” Cliff Bostock says that many Europeans who emigrated to the New World after 1492 believed it was a magical land promising fabulous wealth and the secret to eternal youth. Meanwhile, however, European scientists developed the view that “everything in America — from the land to the people, animals, and plants — was biologically inferior to its European ‘originals.’” Some Cancerians have a comparable split about their destinies. On the one hand, they idealize the past, imagining it to be better or happier than the present time. On the other hand, they ache for an idealized future that will be better or happier than today. Does that describe you? If so, this your wake-up call. Right here and right now is where all the interesting stuff is happening.

(Freewill Astrology.)

The appointment this morning went very well. I explained my feelings about and past experiences with therapy and talked about all the various things I want to work on. I have some homework to take care of before we meet again next week – I’m sure I’ll be sharing it here.. I think this is going to work out very well.

I’m absolutely and positively exhausted now, however, and I’m going to curl up with a book for a bit.

If my Dad were alive right now, and I could request that he make me a piece of furniture (as he often would), I would drag him upstairs to the office and start measuring the walls. I have a vision of a.. shelf. A shelf with drawers underneath. A combination apothecary table and bookshelf with stationery drawers built-in.

The only things I’ve found are ramshackle pieces that I’d have to assemble into something not-remotely-resembling the item I want. I’m talking about a set of plastic drawers from Zellers. A chunk of formica on top, perhaps. A few small filing cabinets shoved underneath. Maybe a few Ikea bookshelves? Yuck.

My dream? It would be wood, and waist-height, with an upper surface on which I could place my fax machine and printer and anything else I needed up-top. I’d like it to be the entire width of the room, so, say, 10 feet. Underneath that top surface (a heavy wood surface) would be a series of shallow drawers in which I could store all my stationery – envelopes, fancy paper, notecards, etc. Then, underneath those drawers, I’d have a series of oddly shaped drawers in which I’d store “stuffs” – markers and pens and stamps and gluesticks.

The lowest portion of this beast would be bookshelves with clear-glass doors to keep the dust out. I’d store all my geek-related books there, along with all my writing-related books (dictionaries, inspirational books, etc.).

To have this built by an actual furniture maker would be insanely expensive. To purchase the tools and wood, I suspect, would be equally as ridiculous in cost. I don’t know anyone who does woodworking for a hobby who would either volunteer for this project (in exchange for the purchase of all parts and a small payment or maybe a large barter?) or who wouldn’t cringe at me fumbling around in their workshop trying to make it myself.

I don’t regret selling my Dad’s wood-working tools after he died. I didn’t need a planer and bandsaw and lathe and all the rest – and leaving them in the basement to rust and atrophy would have made my Dad insane from beyond the grave. But sometimes I wish I could borrow them back. There’s nothing quite like having something made exactly as you dream it.

You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face…. You must do the thing you think you cannot do. – Eleanor Roosevelt

Tomorrow morning, at 9:30, I have an appointment – my first – with a therapist here in the city. I am seeing her because I want to stop taking antidepressants and I think I could use a bit of assistance with that. I have, after all, been taking these drugs for a very long time.

I am more concerned and worried about this appointment, now that it has nearly arrived, than I would have thought. Worried enough that, earlier this morning, I thought about cancelling it before the 24-hour deadline passed for cancellations. I am all about making sure people aren’t inconvenienced by my neuroses, y’see.

I have worked with psychotherapists before, in the past. I saw one for a while to rid myself of the eating disorder that followed me through high school and university, and I saw one a few years after my mother died. I also saw a therapist, briefly, when my Dad died – it was necessary if I wanted to continue on the short-term disability leave I took in order to sort out his estate and deal with the aftermath of his death.

Each of those therapists was different – two males, one female – and each one ultimately said the same thing: you’re very self-aware and introspective.

I can’t disagree with that statement; I know what ails me and I know how those ailments developed. I knew what caused and perpetuated my eating disorder, for example. I knew that my reactions to my parents’ deaths was appropriate and, obviously, from where those reactions stemmed. I know how I cope with things.. and how I don’t.

There is very little in my life that I’m not aware of – from my motivations to my lack of motivation. I assess and ponder my life and my behaviours and my actions and my dreams. When I find myself in pain – psychic pain, I mean – I seek the source and manipulate it around in my head until I can see the whole picture.

And this, usually, leads to the therapist declaring that – since I understand my problem(s) – I no longer require his or her services. We’re done here!

But all that pondering and understanding doesn’t make me able to rid myself of the tendrils that still remain. While I’m aware that my parents’ deaths impacted me in some substantial ways, I have no clue how to undo or change the results of the situation. I’m aware that certain aspects of my childhood have caused me to have certain beliefs about myself – but I don’t know what steps to take to eradicate that.

There are certain behaviours that I have that I can’t seem to kick to the curb despite no longer wanting those behaviours in my life. There are relationships that I can’t seem to sustain (due to fears, stupidity, self-esteem, etc..) and I can’t figure out how to remedy that. There are things I’d like to be doing with my time that I can’t seem to follow-through with, and it’s got nothing to do with ADD.

In order to get myself off of these antidepressants – and for me to hold things together under my own power instead of pharmaceutically – I need to solve some of the issues that make me anxious and depressed. I’m not referring to physical/chemical problems (I’m working those out apart from therapy) but the beliefs I hold and the feelings I detach from when I can’t figure out what else to do. The coping mechanisms that I employ and the things I avoid rather than struggle through.

The thing is, I’m not in some dire situation. If I didn’t go to the appointment tomorrow I’d be fine. I’m not feeling bad, I’m just not feeling the way I want to be. I am on a very low dose of antidepressants (much like everyone else in North America, it seems) and I haven’t needed to supplement that with anti-anxiety meds for well over a year. I’m probably more sane than most people think I am..

But I’m afraid that I’m going to find myself in the same pattern as in the past. I will see this therapist and we will spend a session or two discussing the past – the who, what, where, when and why of my life thus far. Talking about my marriage and my parents and my hobbies and my friendships. Then I’ll explain why I’m there, now, and what I want to achieve.

Within a few sessions she’ll tell me that I’m very self-aware and insightful and… the end.

I can’t help but wonder if it’s something about me that makes the sessions go this way in the long run.

I don’t think I want too much.

I want to feel normal – with highs and lows – and have motivation and enthusiasm for life. I feel trapped in this very level state that is very much not what I’m really like.

I want to pursue the goals that I have without feeling afraid. (Afraid of what happens when I pursue my goals – specifically, people seem to take that opportunity to DIE.)

I want to be happy without feeling as though I need to temper it lest I be punished for my happiness. I deserve to be happy, as much as I try to avoid saying that.

I want to be able to have decent friendships that don’t involve me ducking away into hiding for a month (or two) when I can’t handle the attachments and expectations of other people. This is fine with people who are similar to me, or who understand this, but doesn’t work so well with most other people – they disappear, grow frustrated, assume I don’t care about them..

I want to wake up in the morning and feel curious and excited about the day.

But here’s the thing – I am okay. I am OKAY. It’s just that it’s not enough for me anymore to be “okay”. I want to go back to fabulous. I want to kick off all the shit that’s wrapped around me and not feel that I have to wear it as punishment for my previous happy self. My own demented version of a literal karma balance.

And I need help to do that.

So I’m going to the appointment tomorrow morning and I will spill my guts and then I’ll hold my breath. Please keep your fingers crossed that tomorrow, of all days, I won’t be insightful and self-aware and will simply be a person who needs some help to get where she wants to be.

Keep knocking, and the joy inside will eventually open a window and look out to see who’s there. -Rumi

Did you have a good weekend? I had a good weekend. As you know, weekends around here are always good – simply by virtue of being a weekend. Weekends mean Coffee hangs around for a few days, letting me randomly attach myself to him koala-style. Good times. Gooooood times.

(How many more times can I say “weekend”? Weekend weekend weekend.)

And now I’m aaaaall alone. *insert the sound of gentle weeping here*

Step 1: Crank up music.
Step 2: Dance around living room
Step 3: Whip up a batch of peanut butter cookies.
Step 4: Nap.

Seriously, my life is SO HARD.

Dear Weekend,

I love you. Very much.

Love,
Violet.

Yesterday I ran some errands at Canadian Tire and noted, with great glee, that they are bringing out all the spring-related items. Clerks were wheeling bicycles down the aisles and stocking all the shelves with weed-n-feed, garden ornaments and other fantastic and inspiring objects. (No sign of house hippos. Yet?)

Although I was tempted greatly, in many ways, I restrained myself and brought home only a bag of potting soil. Then I spent a good portion of time caressing it gently with my cheek. Spring. Yes yes, spring!

This morning I donned latex gloves (which I ‘snapped’ in place like a deviant proctologist) and transpotted two of my lacklustre house plants.

One plant has cool shaped leaves that make me think of dinosaurs for some reason. I have no idea what it is – it was purchased while we were selling our old house, in an effort to make it appear that the living room had enough sunlight to permit growth. (It really didn’t.)

The other is a stringy, lanky, too-tall and not-enough-volume money tree that once resided on my desk at work. Although it is several feet in height, it’s only has a few greeny-brown leaves at the very very top. Not pretty. Not pretty at all.

Both of them are now living in larger, happier pots, complete with a generous helping of worm poop that was left over from our last bin.

I’ve noted before that houseplants in my care must be capable of thriving under less than ideal conditions. They must be happy alternating between perfect care (regular feeding, watering, pruning) and weeks of absolute neglect. Since both of these plants have survived thus far, it’s only right that I provide them with this momentary burst of nurturing.

You might want to start praying, now, for the health and welfare of our future child.

This morning I had a big chunk of organic raw-milk gouda along with my toasted english muffin. I can’t remember when I’ve last enjoyed a slice of cheese as much as I enjoyed that one. Perfect taste, texture..

I think one of the best decisions we’ve made since moving to Kitchener was choosing to have our vegetables delivered to us from Pfennings. I’m really enjoying creating meals from the contents of the organic basket – and I’m also having a good time trying out (organic, healthy) foods that aren’t a normal part of my routine. Like the gouda.

I am a self-confessed junk food addict. If it’s coated in chocolate, wrapped in sugar, drizzled in something sweet, or otherwise not-found-in-nature, I am more than happy to consume it. And then I will crave it with my entire being for a long period of time afterward.

I commented to Coffee, recently, that I’m aware of this strange paradox in my thinking. I am willing to eat organic vegetables (to avoid pesticides and chemicals) and I take a handfull of vitamins every day. I avoid saturated fats and I avoid all forms of fast food with the exception of Subway on occasion.

I seek out high-fiber snacks and cereals, I have significantly cut-down on simple carbs (pasta is a once-a-month thing and it’s made from spelt now – instead of white pasta several times a week, for example).

I do not add salt to my food, nor to recipes I’m cooking (unless there’s a really compelling reason and the salt is minimal) and I can get downright deranged reading the ingredients on my food.

But I will happily consume an entire package of chocolate malt balls if I’m given the chance. I will eat pizza that’s laden with salt and melted cheese and meat that no longer resembles meat.

This doesn’t make sense, even to me. I eat healthy – very healthy! – and then I knock it out of the park with a big helping of junk food.

(I should probably be pleased with that, to some extent, considering my nurtitional health would REALLY suck if I was still eating junk food AND unhealthy meals, right?)

Since we started getting the organic food box, however, I’ve seriously slowed down my snack-food addiction. Not through any effort on my part!

I suspect it’s because, along with the vitamins, I’m getting a lot more of the nutrients I require on a daily basis. I’m not filled with cravings – and my junk food eating is now out of habit instead of some chemical need.

It should be interesting to see where I end up when summer rolls around and the vegetable-living is easy.

Yesterday was a big day for cooking. I whipped up some jambalaya and mashed potatoes and the big ol’ happy gingerbread cake. Today I’m debating a few other possibilities – though I’ll probably wait until tomorrow to actually do the cooking because we just received our weekly organic food delivery and the fridge is.. full. Very full.

After making each ‘meal’, I allow the items to cool properly and package them up in little square tupperware-type containers and tuck them into the fridge. Those generic (not Glad) “disposable” containers are wonderful for this – we use ‘em over and over and over and they fare very well in the dishwasher.

There’s something very satisfying about cooking large batches of food (in advance) for Coffee’s lunches. Perhaps some potato-leek soup for the freezer? Maybe some rye bread? Anyone up for some chocolate chip cookies? What about curried rice and spinach? Carrot and ginger soup? Maybe some rutabaga casserole?

Just because he’s not home for dinner doesn’t mean he has to eat crap, right?

Of course, if we made this mandatory – this cooking regularly thing – I’d hate it. I’d rail and whine and complain and demand that someone deliver me a damned pizza already. I’d tell Coffee to eat cereal or take some bread and have toast. Maybe a can of soup?

Gosh, I feel like such a good wife over here! If.. only I also felt this inspired about cleaning.

(Let’s tackle one thing at a time, shall we?)

So, yesterday being our “we fell in love-iversary”, and Coffee being a gingerbread addict, I decided to try a recipe that I found in the March 2007 issue of Chatelaine magazine for “Deluxe Gingerbread Cake”.

It’s part of the “comfort foods” recipe section – this one is from a chef named Jane Wright, who also happens to be the owner of “Jane’s On the Common” in Halifax.

It turned out very well, I think (Coffee rated it 9.2/10) and I’d happily make this for any occasion – including fancy days.. And thus, I share:

Deluxe Gingerbread Cake
Makes 16 servings. (ha!)

CAKE INGREDIENTS
3 1/4 cups of all-purpose flour
4 tsp ground ginger
4 tsp cinnamon
2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp ground black pepper
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup unsalted butter (room temperature)
2 cups fancy molasses
2 eggs
1 cup boiling water
1/3 cup finely chopped candied ginger

MAPLE SAUCE
3/4 cup unsalted butter
2 eggs
2 cups of sifted icing sugar
1/2 cup maple syrup
2 tbsp rum

DIRECTIONS
1. Preheat oven to 350F. Lightly spray 9×13 baking dish with oil. In a medium bowl, using a fork, stir flour with ground ginger, cinnamon, baking soda, cloves, pepper and salt. In a large bowl, using an electric mixer, beat butter until well mixed, then add molasses and mix. Beat in eggs. Add flour mixture. Using a wooden spoon, stir just until mixed. Pour in boiling water and add candied ginger. Gently stir until evenly mixed. Turn into baking dish.

2. Bake in centre of oven until a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean – 60-65 minutes. Carefully remove to a rack to cool. It’s okay if the centre of cake sinks slightly. If making ahead, cover and store at room temperature, up to 2 days. Or wrap in plastic, then foil, and freeze up to one month.

3. For sauce, melt butter in a medium saucepan over low heat. In a medium bowl, whisk eggs. While constantly whisking, slowly drizzle in the melted butter. Whisk in icing sugar until smooth, then maple syrup and rum. Pour back into saucepan and set over medium. Stir often, just until mixture starts to bubble. Immediately pour into a small pitcher. Serve (warm) over squares of cake. Sauce will keep well, covered and refrigerated, up to 3 days. Reheat in a low microwave until warm.