Three Good Things 1.14.15

The winter blues have got me by the throat again and it’s been particularly bad for the last few weeks.  I’m going to try to go back to an old anti-depression technique and start looking for three good things each day.  I’m also going to try to post them here, since this is such a handy spot to write stuff down.  Yesterday was particularly horrible:  feeling incredibly isolated, getting bad news, going to a meeting for work instead of meeting my friends for a run.  Finding three good things in yesterday has taken some effort.

1. Went to the library and got some interesting-looking books plus a new TV series to watch during the couch-sitting that goes on so regularly these days.
2. Ran into an ex-coworker/friend at the evening meeting and had a chance to catch up with her.
3. Ate leftover Jambalayish for dinner, which is just as tasty on Day 3 as on Day 1 (recipe below).  It was tasty enough to overcome my sads and get me to eat a reasonable dinner.

The only thing missing from the dinner was cornbread.  I know this because someone in the household WAS eating cornbread and it smelled yummy enough to make my mouth water a little.  Normally, I try very hard to stay away from the Primal/Paleo baked goods substitutes, but a lightly sweet, slightly crumbly bread product would be such a great compliment to the dish.  This is another “throw stuff in the slow cooker” recipe because minimal effort works well for me right now.

Jambalayish

Ingredients:

Chicken (approx 1 lb) in bite-size pieces (I used leftover chicken breast)

Andouille sausage (approx 1 lb), cut in 1/4” slices (cook it first—it slices better that way)

1 onion, chopped

1 green pepper, chopped

2 stalks celery, chopped

2-3 cloves garlic, minced

2 c. okra (optional) (I used a 12 oz bag of frozen, sliced okra—minimal effort again)

1-2 c. chicken broth or stock (if you’re spooning over rice or like it more soupish, use 2 c. broth)

14.5 oz can fire-roasted tomatoes

6 oz. can tomato paste

2 bay leaves

1 rounded Tbsp Tony Chachere’s original seasoning blend

½ tsp dried thyme

1 tsp dried parsley

1 lb raw, deveined, peeled shrimp

 

Instructions:

Toss everything except the shrimp in the slow-cooker.  Mix well.  Cook on Low for 6 hours.  Add shrimp and cook for an additional 20-30 minutes (until shrimp are just cooked).

Serve with Frank’s Hot Sauce or some sriracha (if you like it spicy) and spoon over rice, cauliflower rice, celery root “grits,” or salad greens.  Or skip the fancy stuff and serve it like the stew it is.  Enjoy!

I have no idea if this would freeze well because we’re eating it all up too quickly to try that.  I suspect the thing to do would be to freeze it without the shrimp in it and add them whenever you thaw it.  If you try the recipe, leave a comment and let me know what you thought!  And if you know of a good Primal/Paleo cornbread substitute, please tell me where to find the recipe.

And if you have time, read this because depression doesn't always look like you might think it does.

Illin'

I’m not sure I can think of a way to talk about this without sounding like a whiner.  This depression is really starting to get me down, you know?  It stole any sense of pride or accomplishment I might have gotten from completing my first marathon.  How unfair is that?  I should have been so pleased/excited/happy/ proud but instead I just felt relieved that it was over.  If it weren’t for wine, crafty crap, and cats, I don’t know how I’d cope.  Depression lies to you and I know that, but it talks so loudly and it’s always so certain that I’m (pick ANY negative descriptor—I’ve said it to myself at some point).  It’s been six months now.  It’s like serving time except you have no idea how long your sentence will last.  Could start feeling better next week.  Could still be in this headspace at Christmas.  During my marathon training, I was wondering how much more depressed I would be if I weren’t running so damned much.  Well.  Turns out to be a fair amount more depressed.  I haven’t been able to run since the marathon due to physical issues of one sort or another and things are absolutely getting worse.

Of course, there are plenty of things I do that keep it from getting too bad.  I take the right vitamins and supplements, I exercise (still walking 10-20 miles per week), I try to get out of the house, I stay busy.  I’m beginning to find myself withdrawing from my friends now.  I’ve tried a few times to suggest a girl’s night, but they all have partners* who are so cool they can’t be left behind, even for one night.  (Either that, or they need some moral support to deal with being around me for an entire evening—don’t think I haven’t considered that angle.)  Being the 3^rd, 5^th, or 7^th wheel has lost its appeal and become more of a chance to find something different to be depressed about rather than a beneficial social interaction.  I occasionally consider getting back on the online dating sites, but that feels almost like an addiction at this point.  (i.e. “I feel like crap about myself, I need some positive feedback and here’s an easy source.”) Maybe prescription drugs are the way to go, but they have such unpleasant side effects.  Hopefully I’ll heal up from this physical mess and get back to running very soon.  At least then I’ll only be kinda bummed instead of the way I feel now.

*I use the term partner because some of my friends are married and some are dating, and because I believe the terminology should be the same across the board, whether you are gay or straight, married, living together, or dating.  You are romantically involved with that person currently (and if you’re romantically involved with more than one, you have partners—simple as that).  It’s easier all around, but I doubt it will catch on since it doesn’t give anyone a social cue about the status of your romantic relationship or if your significant other (or others) happen to be the same gender as you are. Humans are so illogical.

Fear 1

I feckin' chickened out.  Got there 30 minutes late and stood outside the restaurant, looking in at a table full of people laughing, talking, eating.  Knowing that I didn't have the nerve to walk in and interrupt.  That I couldn't possibly be welcome in there.  I hugged myself tight, but just couldn't.  Take.  That.  Step.

I turned and hustled away, trying to put my arms down, struggling to look as normal as possible, hating my scaredy-cat self.  I took myself to the bookstore, since that's usually a treat, but I was on the verge of tears the whole time.  I couldn't think of anyone to contact for support or encouragement or sympathy.  So I went home.  I didn't really feel like talking to anyone anyway.

I did some cooking, which filled the house with good smells.  Then curled up with the new Charlaine Harris/Sookie Stackhouse book and my cat and some homemade cinnamon kettlecorn.  Yes, kettlecorn is completely against the rules for Primal Blueprint, but I'm on an ice cream detox and I felt the need to eat my feelings.  It worked fairly well, too.  I quit picking on myself, got some decent sleep, and am resolved to try again next month.  I do feel a bit bruised and weepy today, but I'm sure it'll be better soon.

@depression--I'm still not talking to you, so get lost.


 

Stop SOPA

I'm too lazy to figure out the formatting needed to go black today, but please follow this link and let the politicians hear your voice:  Stop American Censorship  

As the awesome folks at Cake Wrecks said "Stopping online piracy is a good thing. Doing so at the expense of free speech and the global Internet is not."

A shitty start to the day. Literally.

Ugh.  I woke up this morning to a pile of catshit on the floor.  One foot in front of the litterbox, so you know it was probably deliberate.  (To be fair, the cat has had some trouble with her bladder all her life, so it might be that problem has mutated.)  Regardless of the reason, my first task of the day was a shitty one.

After recovering from that little “gift,” I proceeded to the kitchen to create food.  And discovered that the mice had been having a major party in my kitchen drawers.  Surprise!  More shit!    This time I just closed the drawers.  The cat won’t open them herself, so I’m sure that particular cleaning chore will still be waiting on me when I get home.  It’s one of my 12-hour workdays, though, so perhaps I’ll just have a nice glass of wine later and save that little chore for tomorrow night.