A great man told me “Fairy tales start with ‘Once upon a time’ war stories start with ‘No s*** there I was…’”
Have you ever wondered, “How the f*** did I get to this point?”
Well, this is me trying to figure that out. These are my personal war stories, my victories, my defeats. These are the confessions of a recovering workaholic 30-something who survived breast cancer and who isn’t a princess anymore.
Hope you enjoy things as I try to figure out my life after breast cancer and marrying a wonderful and nerdy giant. These are my no crap moments filled with laughter & tears. As I’m fond of saying “At least we’ll have a good story!”
I know someday we will look back on this quarantine time and reflect upon the changes it caused in our society and personal lives.
Right now I’m struggling.
Besides missing people and places I am realizing that so many people are not who I thought they were. While I try to remain understanding and I will acknowledge that there has been a lot going on and it’s a difficult time for many I also can’t support and do not want to be around the people causing me strife.
I don’t want the lies, the racism, the anger the chaotic negativity and the drama of others. I am trying to make it through these times with grace and tolerance but am running out. I don’t want to deal with family members not respecting boundaries, friends demanding too much and not caring how it affects others. I am a bit angry and very exhausted. I’ve realized who the real family and friends are.
I hope we all make it through these time and I’m just trying not to spiral.
My husband often calls me a Kitchen Witch, I can make sauces out of practically nothing some days and few recipes are daunting to me except for time wise. I’m not a multi-step person, if a recipe requires 3 hours of constant work I can’t do it, I have a small kiddo right now. Since I was younger if you gave me an idea, gave me a few ingredients I would make you something special.
There is something healing and calming about cooking for other people. I feel safe as I cook and more at peace although I will have 3-4 things going on at the same time. My brain and soul focus more and come into tune with each other. I love people enjoying my food. I love making people happy and nourishing them. There is magic to that.
I’m starting to identify as a Kitchen or Hearth Witch as it’s where I am the happiest so often. Growing up I would always try to be in the kitchen in our house or even in my Grandmother’s restaurants so it makes sense to me that Kitchen Witches actually exist. What is a potion but another name for a recipe?
The other night I made spaghetti sauce with the Kiddo. She tore up the basil for me from our garden, I added Oregon (garden and dried), pizza seasonings, garlic, pepper and a pinch of that, splash of this until it smelled and tasted how I wanted. Nothing is measured, everything is stirred in, more is added if needed and this is repeated until I’m happy. I use store bought sauce as a base and simmer and stir and it’s a relaxing thing.
The ingredients I added are all common ingredients too but if you look at things from a Kitchen Witchery standpoint, Basil can be used for Bonding, Protection, Wisdom, Money, and Courage. Oregano, from what I read, is also good for money and apparently forgetting past lovers. Tomatoes are thought by some to be the food of love. So what better way to bring the family and friends together than a big spaghetti diner?
There is also something special about cooking items from the garden, eating the squash my kid has waved at and said hello to for weeks, tomatoes she touches aching to pick and eat. She’s like me in so many ways watching the bees, picking basil and mint leaves and eating them straight from the plant. I love when she helps me water and plant and put dirt into pots. Our garden is small but filled with so much love and care. She waters with me, often spraying me with the hose as I do her and it’s our time to relax and be silly.
It doesn’t matter if you believe in witches or not, those moments in our small garden or as my sweet kid “helps” cook are magical to me. The food taste better and although more work to cook with a toddler it is a lot more fun.
So, with all the crazy things in the world, I recommend that you take a break, embrace your inner Kitchen/Hearth witch and cook up a little pasta, make some sauce and enjoy it with family.
I was discussing goals and outcomes with friends and it led to an interesting conversation about celebrating the small victories. It’s the little things, the small victories that keep us going. Big goals are great but it’s the small things we do daily to improve ourselves or our surroundings that lead to the big goals being achieved.
This led to an interesting point about learning how to triage issues and using the spoons you have wisely. An example of this is I might not have enough mental or emotional stamina to go work out but I did remember to drink water, not just coffee and take a vitamin. You know what I’m proud I remembered that, my body is happier, hurts less and is functioning better. Did you remember to run this morning? Flipping right be happy about that. Did you remember to brush your hair, did you get out of bed?! YES Queen celebrate that you’re having a good mental health day!
The small victories are things we can accomplish everyday. Did you do the dishes, take out the trash, talk to a friend. During these trying times of uncertainty and unrest we need to celebrate the victories no matter how small.
To my POC friends and LGTBQ friends, I am proud of you. I am proud of the support you have shown each other, that most of the protests have been united and peaceful. I am proud to support you and continuing being an ally and member of your community. While the hurdles are large and the trail is long we will get there. Celebrate each small victory, each small step. Continue to embrace each other and educate others. Continue fighting tooth and nail for equal rights and on days when it seem insurmountable and you are exhausted beyond belief, on days where you can hardly walk be kind to yourself and celebrate your small victories. On the hard days where you may not be able to move, where you want to sit and cry, celebrate that you are still here and have not given up.
Spoons are scarce, tempers are high and it feels like the world is ending and yet, we are still here and still fighting.
Sometimes I still get vivid flashbacks of moments or emotions from when I was with my ex. This morning in the shower this vivid memory of me kissing a friend hit me. After that pretty darn innocent kiss, you know the cheek kiss or quick peck when you greet or part? Yeah it was that kind. That was the week he kicked me out.
We were living together until he moved out of state (because I’m an idiot) and I was supposed to move in with my Aunt by September. I was willing to move out immediately but he gave me all the excuses like had no place else to go, his family wouldn’t let him stay with them we can still be friends, he thought I loved him. He just wanted to manipulate and control me more and for me to continue paying 1/2 the rent.
We had been broken up since 2 weeks before my birthday in March and it was now August. I’d been packing boxes and getting ready to move, resigned and slightly liberated to have things finally over. I guess he never thought I’d actually go especially when his plans to move out of state failed. Five months of living with him knowing we weren’t together but him insisting we acted like it while we lived together. Five, almost 6 months of him becoming increasingly controlling, mentally and verbally abusive, more than he ever was while we were officially together and that’s saying something.
That happened 6 years ago and yet it stills pops into my head so vividly that I can feel the shame, the fear, the anger and the resentment today. I can feel my fight or flight response start.
This morning as I stood there frozen for a minute in the warm spray of the water the new memories of my husband emerged. My friends flooded my brain. The way I can kiss them and hug them freely when I see them and my husband doesn’t care, he knows that I’m greeting friends and family of mine. My husband isn’t like the ex. I unfreeze a little more under the water. I take a shuddering breath and try not to let the tears start.
I know I’ll be in a crappy mood for awhile this morning but my husband, by BFG and my baby are together at home. I have to go into the office and work and forget these memories which is becoming easier as I gain new memories.
I am grateful for the new memories and once this Covid-19 pandemic is over best believe I’m hugging and kissing everyone again.
Essential me, I scoff. Paperwork and safety walk throughs, an audit that should have been rescheduled and phones that sometimes wont stop ringing. Systems that will not work and me trying to take care of everything.
Orders flooding in that I am too busy and stressed to process. Everyone needing me, pulling me into different directions. Timecards to sign, people to find, labels and copies to make.
One boss works from home and does not understand why I can’t help her more. The other boss insist I come in.
I am needed, I need to make sure the rules are being followed, the company and people remain safe. No pressure… also no consequences for the ones that break the rules; well no consequences but perhaps death.
Our machines are breaking down and so is our mental health but still I go in, risking the ones I love to help provide. Not feeling clean, not feeling safe, not understanding why people refuse to follow the rules.
I am lost and I am scared which makes it hard to focus but I am still expected to do my normal job?!
I am angry. I am angry and sad and frustrated with the world. I am angry with the people who do not care, who risk the rest of us.
Essential, me… I am essential to my baby, to my husband to my family those are the essential.
It’s been a while, the world seems to have gone crazy and I’m not OK. The new norm is social distancing, the new norm is stressed and scary and I don’t like it.
My work is considered essential so I have to come in, people aren’t complying with the regulations and yet are being paranoid and freaking out. So I have an entire company panicking yet not following the new rules. (I’d facepalm myself but I can’t touch my face)
I am at a loss. I want to go home and crawl into bed and sleep. I don’t want to wake up until this is over and I definitely don’t want to come into the office and try to hold everyone and everything together. I wont crawl into bed though because my husband, my baby and my friends need me to be the rock, the anchor. What they don’t realize though is that they are MY anchor. Mandie gives me hope and keeps me going. Lisa is the silent strength I need. Terri is the love that helps protect and provide. My husband is the strong arms that hold me up and my baby is the tether to everything.
I am exhausted trying to remain sane, my life hasn’t been easy and it doesn’t look like that will change anytime soon. I’m on the verge of tears lately more often than not. I don’t sleep well and my body hurts from all the stress and anxiety. My muscles are tense and my temper is sharp and brittle.
I can make it through this, I’m from stronger stock than this, my shitty life and crappy times have trained me to endure.
So long distance hugs and kisses as I try not to touch anything.
Ever since I could remember I’ve had incredibly vivid dreams, dreams where I can smell, see and even taste what’s going on. Growing up I’d tell my mother my crazy dreams, especially the nightmares so I know they wouldn’t come true. I don’t know where I learned it from but I had (have?) a belief that any dreams told before you ate in the morning would not come true. Maybe it was something my mother told me to help ease my fears?
I’d have the typical flying dreams that occasional turned into falling and I’d wake up with a giant jolt and sometimes the wind felt knocked out of me. Most of my dreams though were good….well crazy but good-ish.
I don’t know when though my dreams became nightmares. I have nightmares more often then dreams now. I don’t know when but at some point in my life there was a lever that was pulled. (Wrong lever Kronk!!!!) and my fantastical vivid dreams seem to have been replaced for the most part with fantastic vivid nightmares. I still get the occasional dream but they are rare now, like little shiny gems among the rubble of my nightmares.
It’s been something I’ve been musing about for a couple days. Also, many people I hear don’t dream hardly at all. Am I weird for still dreaming at 35 or remembering them? More thoughts to ponder.