Don't Crowd the Mushrooms, Among Other Things

Around the same time last year, I experienced something along the lines of depression and anxiety. I tend to not admit it. I tend to not use the “d” word at all. After all, what did I have to be depressed about? I was living abroad, making a name for myself. Or, rather, I was learning what it meant to do the job in front of me because it needed doing. In February of last year, I developed Secondary Traumatic Stress (a similar beast to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but one typically seen in those helping people who experienced trauma firsthand) in an effort to help out on a project the NGO I interned at managed.

It has been a growing year for me since then.

In March of this year, I had gotten sick with probably one of the longest running bugs I’ve had in a while. And that turned into a terrible sinus infection, which in turn lasted another two weeks with an on again, off again fever. All motivation to do the things I enjoyed went out the window. No Insanity with CK. No Meals with Morri posts (or celebration of its fourth birthday, for that matter). No art. No job applications. Nothing.

My weakened immune system brought me back to how I felt last year, and the lack of interest from potential employers made it worse.

I write about this because I think it’s important. Meals with Morri is, first and foremost, a site about living healthfully with food sensitivities. But it’s also a place where I write about other health issues, like hypothyroidism, disordered eating, and stress.

In Malta, I kept my emotional pain relatively quiet (with the exception of CK, my parents, certain friends, and my therapist). I was living alone and on my own for the first time. I was finishing up grad school. I was working in a country on issues that were highly contentious and subject to scorn. Outside of work, I didn’t have a social life because I found it hard to assimilate and integrate with the culture). It was a hard lesson in learning to be alone and honest with myself.

Fast forward to today. I’m in Rome for twelve more days, living with an amazing human being that I refer to as my Partner with a capital ‘p’. I’ve volunteered my time and expertise at his school to get out of the apartment. I’ve improved as an artist, a cook, and as a writer. I’ve applied for jobs everywhere.

Depression isn’t logical. I am aware of my privilege. I have supportive friends, and I’ve grown as a person because of my experiences. But there would be days where I go through job listing sites like Idealist.org or Indeed.com and come up with nothing. Until recently, the idea of sending an email to another potential employer only to be ignored would bring me to tears, staring at the computer screen with blurred vision as the anxiety and worthlessness feeling grew. If you are presently searching for employment or had a hard time finding a job, you’ll know how detrimental it can be when your inbox is empty, and no one seems interested in what you can offer both their mission and their office.

But as I’ve said, I’ve been able to volunteer my time at CK’s school in more ways than I could have ever hoped for. It has validated my self-worth in that, despite the empty inbox, what I can and do contribute to the world (even to one person's world) matters. 

Upcoming post: the importance of school gardens

This funk has made it that much harder for me to do things that I clearly love doing, including Meals with Morri posts. The turning point for me was realizing that it was affecting my physical health too.

I know gaining 1.6 pounds isn’t a lot in retrospect, especially since the body fluctuates that amount on any given day. Regardless, I had gained 1.6 pounds, and it bugged me. It had nothing to do with the number and everything to what it represented. To me, it represented my depression affecting me in a very real way with very real consequences. I love physical activity. I love working out. I love being creative. And seeing that number gave me two ways of dealing with it: I could either turn it inward and accept it, beating myself even further to feeling lower than low; or I could say “f*ck that” and take charge. I chose the latter, and with it I had to be prepared to hold myself accountable.

I can’t control whether or not an employer wants to hire me. It’s a vulnerable position to apply for jobs, and that can’t be helped. But what I can do is make my first impression, that is, my cover letter and résumé, a labor of love. I can send them in and be able to say, “I wrote these to the best of my ability, with sincerity and integrity, and that’s something to be proud of.” Sure, it may also mean being downcast when they don’t get back to me, but that just means the right job will.

I can also control how I manage my time. I can sit around and mope, or I can actively seek out someone to talk to. I can work on my art or read another Terry Pratchett (Gods, I miss this man) novel. I can do Insanity instead of napping away the day in an effort to avoid my anger, disappointment, and sadness. I can stop comparing myself to others and instead focus on the positive as well as the things I can control.

I can control how many jobs I apply to. I can control how much time I put into my art and physical health. I can control how often I post on Meals with Morri.

Never let depression ruin your progress. Never let it win. Experience it. Work through it. But in the end, you can and will triumph.

This recipe isn’t particularly relevant to what I’ve written, only that I’ve been meaning to post it for weeks now and wanted to take those first crucial steps in overcoming my funk. It is more of a technique than a recipe. But if you learn anything from today, learn this invaluable tip: Don’t crowd the mushrooms in the pan.

Flawlessly Pan-Fried Mushrooms

400 g Mushrooms of your choice
Olive oil, for the pan
Sea salt

As I said, this is more of a technique than a recipe, but it’s an easy way to dazzle dinner guests. I’ve done this technique with three types of mushrooms: oyster, white button, and a long stemmed, small hooded mushroom that came in clumps and various sizes (I’ll update the name when/if I can find it). All where prepared and cooked similarly, and I have to say I’ve come to appreciate mushrooms by themselves because of this technique.

When you take the mushrooms out of the package, the first thing you do is cut the bottom roots and clean off the remaining debris from its initial picking with a dry paper towel. This is important. If you do end up wetting the mushrooms (they soak up moisture like a sponge, leading to a soggy product, which we do not want), let them sit on the counter to dry out for fifteen minutes or so.

Now, you can keep the stems on or remove them depending on your preference, but it’s up to you. You can also slice them in any shape or simply leave them whole. How you prepare them will determine the cooking time, so be aware of that. What I typically do is, if possible, cut them into quarters to get ultimate browning and body with every bite.

Once the mushrooms are cut, place a large sauté pan on the burner on high heat. When the pan itself is hot, pour a decent amount of olive oil at the bottom of the pan, enough to coat the bottom evenly but not thickly. Toss the mushrooms in, lower the heat slightly (not by much, around medium-high), but be sure that each piece has room. This is extremely important for perfectly cooked browned mushroom: do not crowd the pan with them. This may mean cooking them in batches. And since the mushrooms won’t be crowded, the liquid they do give off will evaporate, leaving soft, browned deliciousness in the pan. 

Stir with a wooden spoon or spatula and shake the pan once in a while. You will know you are doing the recipe right if the pan starts to look dry and the mushrooms sound like they’re squeaking. If it looks like the mushrooms are smoking, DO NOT ADD WATER. Instead, turn on the exhaust fan and maybe add a little more oil.

Once evenly browned, pour onto a serving plate and sprinkle sea salt on top. Repeat if you have more batches to cook (add oil every time). Serve hot as a side dish or simply eat as is. Yes, they’re that good.

This makes two servings… if you’re willing to share, that is.

Have Blogged, Will Travel: Tips, Tricks, & Trials of Traveling with Health in Mind

Traveling to places is a magical, if not a daunting, ecstatic, manic, uncertain, irritable, and life changing experience. It is never the same experience twice. Every airport, dock, train station, bus, taxi, or road trip is a journey to Elsewhere, somewhere not Here.

With stricter regulations, mostly at airports, with what you can pack, how much you can pack, and what will pass through customs, many of the well-seasoned travelers have a System of making traveling as stress-free as possible. They have it down to a science, and they know exactly what to do in the security line.

I mention this because, what with leaving in ten days to Rome, I was inspired to share what I do to make traveling less hectic and easier to manage my food and health concerns. Since I’ve never talked about being in transit with additional things to consider, mainly food and medication, I thought it would be fun to do.

I know that you typically have a lot more say and control when you are taking the train/bus or doing a road trip, mostly because you are usually only limited to space, and the train/bus stations don’t have the security that most airports utilize. In this case, I’m going to mostly focus on air travel.

Eating gluten free while traveling isn’t as hard as it used to be. Many airlines actually have a number of meals to choose from, whether it’s gluten free, low sugar, Kosher, Halal, vegetarian, vegan, and more. But these are usually reserved for longer flights, where you are essentially up in the air for over eight hours. When you are purchasing your ticket, make sure to check if what you can/will eat is an option. If not, you’ll have to get creative, but we’ll get to that later.

After purchasing your ticket, make an itinerary that includes the time you are traveling and where. This is also a fun time to take a look at the local restaurants and seeing whether they already have gluten free options on their menu, or if they can make their dishes gluten free. That way, you're not stuck eating snacks as meals.

If, for instance, you are not simply leaving for holiday, but are living abroad for a time, aside from packing clothes, toiletries, and gadgets, there is a matter of medication to consider.

My living in Malta was the first time I’ve had to travel with prescribed medication. Sure, I’d packed some of the typical stuff when I lived in Sweden: aspirin, Vitamin D, and ibuprofen (for cramps). But it isn’t hard to find additional supplements that do not require a prescription, either at the local pharmacy or online. 

Almost four years after my diagnosis I have taken Armour Thyroid. Since I was going to be gone for a year, I needed to find out how I could take a year’s worth of doses with me. I learned that I had to do what is called a vacation override, in which my insurance company approved to have all my medication for the year given to me and paid for at one time. Our pharmacy was really great about it (thank you, Anita!), and all I needed to do was send proof that I was leaving the country to my insurance provider. It’s apparently a lot easier if you’re traveling within the United States to another state: all you have to do is transfer your prescription to the nearest pharmacy.

My rule of thumb is to carry my prescriptions on my person, either in my carry-on or backpack, and pack the supplements in my bulky luggage.

Now that you have your itinerary and medication sorted, let’s focus on keeping you healthy while in transit. Along with taking your medicine at the right time, always have a stock of foodstuff in your carry-on even if you are able to eat something on the plane. I usually find the meals that are on the plane to not be particularly filling, and sometimes there will be foodstuffs in said meal that I still cannot eat (whether it’s soy or sugar or both). Either way, keeping the hangry (yes, it's a thing) feeling away is a big part to making travel stress free (at least for me).

Traveling by train through Rome

Alas, there are some foods that will not get through security. One of my favorite food moments to talk about was the time Mama Dazz and I were leaving for Malta. She had packed yellow Chedder cheese squares, which apparently, according to the TSA agent, looked like bombs. Our food bag (indeed, one carry-on bag was specifically for food) was searched solely for that reason, but we were able to bring Wisconsin’s finest through.

Liquid and gel items are not allowed through security past 3.4 oz (96 g/100 ml), and you can find glass or plastic containers that adhere to traveling standards quite easily. But honestly, I wouldn’t bother with liquids, be they vinegar or oils, for eating purposes. I’d be too worried about the mess.

As you know, I’m big on peanut butter. I practically cried with joy when the health food store in Valletta sold tubs of it without any additives. But instead of just putting it in a 3.4 oz jar, I remove the middleman of having to use utensils and just applying it directly to the food I want to eat it with.

For food, it is really easy to eat one food group over the others while travelling, so what I do is pack as much variety as possible. Here are a few things I recommend:

• Waffles or pancakes, since they are easily handled and can be made into sandwiches
• Crackers
• Sliced cheeses and deli meats
• Hard-boiled eggs
• Sliced apples and other easy-to-carry fruits
• Nuts, seeds, dried fruit, or granola
• Crunchy veggies, such as carrot, celery, bell pepper, and cherry tomatoes
• Hummus, as per regulation (can be spread on crackers/bread/bagels beforehand)
• Individually wrapped chocolates (I can rarely find chocolate I can eat, so I view it as an indulgence when I can.)
• Your favorite tea bags (for when you have hot water but want a sense of comfort)
• Travel utensils, such as bamboo or BPA-free plastic 

Try to either eat the refrigerated foods early on in the travels or keep them in a temperature-regulated lunchbox. If possible, and to lessen your stress going through security, keep everything in clear packaging, whether they be glass jars or plastic bags/containers. Also, focus mostly on protein and fat. You’re not going to feel sated simply eating celery or rice crackers for eight or more hours if that’s all you can eat.

It’s always better to have more food than you expect to eat, because then you have snacks throughout your travels. I have a tendency to underpack food when traveling for long distances, so be aware of how much you’re actually traveling, whether it’s on the plane or waiting for the connecting flight, and it certainly helps during those long delays.

As soon and as often as you can, drink water. They tend to be expensive in the terminals, but you can also buy the bigger bottles to keep with you. If you do not want to buy the bottles again and again, you can get a reusable water bottle that purifies water from the fountain or the sink (preferably the fountain, since it’s geared to human consumption). Another important aspect of hydration is for your skin. Traveling dries my skin out terribly, and so I always have apple cider vinegar in a spritz bottle, a small jar for coconut oil, and lip balm.

Perhaps it’s a common practice, but I also pack extra clothing in my carry-on, mostly soft pants, a scarf, a pair of socks, and a warm hoodie just in case I want to change into something warmer and more comfortable, or a change of clothes to help feel refreshed. I also tend to bring my journal and something to read, perhaps my sketchbook. And I always have my camera.

Finally, I try to remain mindful and calm. Security and running to and from terminals at an awkward sprint can be panic inducing, but I know that I planned for everything that I can control, and for the things I can’t I at least have things to settle my stomach and mind. I am also more willing to ask for help while traveling, and more often than not the people, also traveling or native, are willing to lend a hand in pointing you to the right direction.

But yes, I get to go through this again very soon, and I am beyond ecstatic to return to Rome, where there’s espresso, regional cheeses and wines and, of course, CK.

Soup for Sick Days

As a kid, I was sick a lot. Migraines, struggling to keep anything down, fevers – this was just the typical thing I experienced year after year. It did get better after a time, but even now I know I am more susceptible to getting sick than most people. 

Luckily, whenever I get sick these days, it has more to do with crashing from exerting more energy than is healthy than migraines. I admit it: I tend to push myself hard, believing that I can do it all within a twenty-four-hour time limit. The result is much like a hangover without the fun, only it lasts for days.

CK has really been good about calling me on it when I show the signs (manic movements, voice at a breathless, higher pitch, unable to sit still, cycling over all the things I need to be doing, etc.), but I’ve also just improved with growing to honor and love my body and what it needs. I really excelled with this in Malta: being okay with being at home most weekends (eventually), and doing my own thing. I learned to actually rest and take care of myself.

But sometimes, you have deadlines. You have exams. You have work. In short, you have responsibilities that you have to deal with, and sometimes you end up paying for it.

The best way I’ve learned to combat that, when you are first able, is to focus on the responsibility of taking care of yourself. If possible, no energy is exerted on others, be it people or projects. Have a quiet day or, as Mama Dazz used to call them, a mental health day. If possible, spend the whole weekend recharging. For me, that’s essentially settling down to a good book or movie, cuddling with kitties (or CK, whichever is available), sleeping in and eating well.

Introducing the newest addition to our family, Clyde! He's got the right idea...

Even as a kid, soup was the go-to meal for when I was sick. That, and tea (lots of lemon and even more honey). But soup was comforting. I had specific mugs that I would use depending on the soup, and I tended to prefer blended soups, particularly tomato. Occasionally, I would have chicken noodle soup, or clam chowder if my stomach could manage, but it honestly depended on what was in the pantry.

"There better be a good reason why your camera is in my face, Morri..."

Since becoming flexitarian, I’ve looked at unmeatifying would be meaty favorites. I’ve made bean burgers that I loved, I've always been okay with a hearty bean chili, and I’m looking to make “clam” chowder with oyster mushrooms at some point. But what I really wanted to try out next was to make chicken noodle soup, just without the chicken.

This chickpea noodle soup recipe is fairly open-ended to what noodles you like and what spices you have on hand. Add whatever is soothing and comforting to you and what you need in it, including the amount of noodles you want per person. This is also a recipe for two, whether it’s for you for a couple of meals, a mental health day with your SO, or any veggie-inclined kid that just needs something warm to go with their cartoons.

Chickpea Noodle Soup

300 g Cooked chickpeas
2 Celery stalks, thinly sliced
2 Carrots, thinly sliced
1 Yellow onion, diced
2 – 4 Garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
1 Q. Vegetable stock (or water)
2 tbsp. Olive oil
1 Bay leaf
1 dash Tarragon
1 tbsp. Parsley
Sea salt, to taste
Cracked pepper, to taste
Hot sauce, optional*
150 g (or more) Dry GF spaghetti noodles**, cooked per instructions

Place a medium-sized cooking pot (enough to hold over a quart of liquid, the veggies, and chickpeas) on medium heat with the olive oil.
When fragrant, toss in the vegetables and let cook until the onions are translucent.
Pour remaining ingredients, excluding the noodles and the hot sauce, on medium-low heat for thirty minutes.
During that time, prepare a larger pot with water for the noodles and bring to a boil.
Cook them as instructed and pour the excess water through the colander, and place the desired amount of noodles at the bottoms of the bowls you are using.
Turn off the soup (the veggies should be soft but not falling apart), and pour the soup on top of the noodles.
Serve hot with hot sauce.***

Makes 2 servings.

* I mean, I guess it’s optional… Just kidding ;). I personally like a little kick with soups like this, but to each their own.

** You can easily use any type of noodle you’d like for this dish, but I decided to use spaghetti for the sake of nostalgia. 

*** This is also a good bread-on-the-side dipping soup.

How to Survive Getting Glutened (again)

Let’s say, for whatever reason, you got glutened. Yes, insert the dramatic and ominous music. This may be the first time or the twentieth time (I sincerely hope not) since you've removed gluten from your system, but you do know that it’s going to suck. It’s essentially the five stages of grief and loss: you’re in denial that it happened, I mean, you’re always so careful; you’re angry, maybe feeling betrayed by the food in question, the people who gave it to you, or you for eating it; you try to bargain with your body, and quite possibly telling yourself that it wasn’t very much and so it can’t be that bad; then you get depressed, as you start feeling the tremors in the tummy and digestive tract, knowing that a lot of the fun things you were getting ready to do did not include this; and finally, acceptance, because it’s happening, so you may as well do whatever you can to alleviate the discomfort.

Maybe you’re so zen that you just shrug and go right to the taking care of yourself part. In that case, I salute you, glutened zen master.

How you take care of yourself is vital to a speedy recovery, but know that while there is physical damage that takes place (inflammation, tightness, constipation, headaches), it is a lot worse when you are panicking.

Panicking amplifies the pain, and it also keeps you from having a steady head when you have to deal with the result of being glutened. After realizing you’ve been glutened, the next step I usually take is keeping myself calm or taking something for the anxiety. Deep steady breaths and self-compassion will lower your chances of hyperventilating and freaking out. (Also, if you know you experience terrible symptoms to the point you need to go to the doctor’s or the ER, seek medical help immediately.)

As you’re calming down, if you haven’t discerned the culprit, take a moment to trace back what possibly happened, and how much you actually ingested. Was it contaminated cooking oil or a prep space? Was it a thickener? Was it a food, such as breadcrumbs or a grain?

Once you’ve figured out the dastardly gluteny villain, let a few people know, especially those you’re living with. For one thing, you’ll have support and help in taking care of you if need be. For another, it really just helps in knowing that someone has your back. It can feel very betraying to be glutened. You can feel untrusting of anyone else but you with your health, which is completely understandable. But even if you decide to take charge of your healing for the next few days, the people who understand what you’re going through will remind you to keep calm, drink plenty of fluids, eat easily digestible food, and take as much rest as you need.

For me, the amount of the gluten ingested dictates the amount of discomfort and healing time that follows. It’s not the same for others. Sometimes, one crumb of wheat bread can be just as bad as eating an entire loaf for some people. It really depends from person to person. When I was glutened with that green apple drink over three years ago, I was bed ridden for days. When I was glutened this weekend, it wasn’t as bad because I didn’t directly ingest it. But kitchens sometimes forget the cooking oils. Sometimes they forget how crucial it is to keep gluten free orders at separate prepping stations. So while the discomfort wasn’t fun, and I did experience the typical symptoms of being glutened, it was less so and only for about a day.

During that time water and probiotics are your two best friends and allies. I typically use FiveLac, but kefir, yogurt, kombucha, and miso are also good choices. Remove as much allergenic or inflammatory foods as possible from your system, and focus on the foods that are high in minerals and vitamins. I typically lose my appetite from the experience, but herbal teas with honey and thin, spice-laden broths (like turmeric and garlic) are fantastic. Congee, smoothies, and blended soups are my preference.

Since your tummy is going to feel like a battlefield, try to wear comfortable, loose clothing. Nothing constricting or skin-hugging to promote further discomfort. If you can get away with wearing pajamas all day, I say go for it. But for those having to go to work and look sharp, soft fabric and loose clothing (such as sweaters, wraps, drawstring or elastic waistband bottoms, or dresses that don’t hug the waist) will help raise your morale in knowing just how wonderful you are despite feeling like crap.

Finally, listen to your body in what it’s capable of doing activity-wise. Try to keep yourself mobile, but not at top speed. If you feel you can, do some light stretching or yoga. Meditate. Take a nice, long hot soak with Epsom salt. Do some housework. Work on a hobby. If you do need to nap, by all means nap. But I do know that I tend to spiral in the crappy feeling, so doing things I love helps promote a faster recovery simply because I’m not wallowing. That may mean hanging out with friends but not rock climbing, or cleaning my room instead of working on the whole house.

There are a lot of “What to do when you’ve been glutened” articles out there, but these are the ones that work for me. What about you? What really helps you on the road to recovery?

National Eating Disorders Awareness Week: My Journey

A few years ago my cousin introduced me to Post Secret, a movement created by a very compassionate individual by the name of Frank Warren who created an outlet for people to anonymously mail secrets to him. The secrets can be funny, ridiculous, serious, sad, and anything in between. Every Sunday, he posts new secrets that millions of people read. Every Sunday, I am one of those millions of people that do. It’s a way, I think, for people to feel connected with others around the world. Sharing these secrets is a way to let go as well as bringing people together. It’s a relief know that there are others who are going through similar things or thinking the same thoughts.

Last Sunday’s secrets really hit home for me. They revolved around eating disorders. Here are a few examples:

(Probably the one that was the most personal and relevant for me.)

National Eating Disorders Awareness Week brings into light a very personal matter for a lot of people. It doesn’t just affect a certain weight, gender, age, or nationality. It affects a wide ranged of people for different reasons. It mostly is about a sense of control or the desire of being this ideal image or weight, but those aren't the only reasons.

I remember becoming extremely offended when this fight of what ‘real women’ look like started. Suddenly, naturally slender women were subjected to scorn in the media. I have friends of various height and weight combinations, and they are all exceptionally beautiful people. They have shown me that there is no one-size-fits-all aspect of beauty.

One of the things CK told me (and that I love him for) is that there is no such thing as the fairytale relationship. And so, this past weekend, he asked me a very hard question: “So then, why do you demand for the fairytale body?” This applied not only to my appearance, but also my health. It was one of those questions that not only broke down everything I tried to ignore, but once I let it out I couldn’t stop.

I don't refer to having had disordered eating as an eating disorder  because I believe the term 'eating disorder' places blame on the person suffering. Disordered eating is also more inclusive and, in my opinion, something you can rise from and have the power to change. Disordered eating has traveled with me like a codependent ally, needing me to need to control what I ate, when I ate, and how much. When I went to college, I lost a lot of weight. In total, my weight loss journey resulted in over 40 pounds. Most of it was due to changing my eating habits and preferring healthier options and exercising more. But when I became ‘thin’, I was deathly afraid of gaining it back. I’ve had panic attacks in the past because it was so terrifying to me to go back to that time when my body was a prison to the wonderful person underneath.

*Photos are from 1990 - 2012.

The evolution of my disordered eating habits became more about earning and deserving food than not eating. To be fair, I didn’t decide one day to be anorexic my sophomore year in high school. I just felt I didn’t have time to eat in the mornings and simply wasn’t hungry for lunch (and believe me, the food options in the cafeteria were not appetizing). So I would go almost twenty hours without eating, snack when I got home and then eat dinner. I drank hot tea in the mornings with lemon and sugar, but that was it. By the end of the first quarter, I was under 140 pounds, a first since I started puberty.

And then I got sick and began vomiting blood. The trip to the ER showed stomach ulcers from drinking tea (which is extremely acidic) on an empty stomach, and put a slight hole in my esophagus. I called this experience the time I was “accidentally anorexic”.

By college, I went gluten free (soy free and cane sugar free came about a year or two after). I started eating healthier and exercising and was rather happy with where I was at body image-wise. I changed my appearance often, even cutting my hair in a pixie cut. My exercising, however, became something I had to do and a way to cut calories. I would do the math and think: “Okay… I’ve burned a certain number of calories, enough to have burned off breakfast, and maybe that smoothie I want to have later.” (This is also known as exercise bulimia and a very common form of disordered eating.) I looked at my body more critically, wondering why I wasn’t getting the body I wanted. At one point I tried to survive on 1200 calories a day. I guesstimated my intake, so I’m sure I ate more than that. But it still stands that, while I was active and walking to class, I wasn’t eating enough. I think I even blacked out while driving at one point on my way back to campus housing for lunch.

When I started this blog, the first post began with me being hungry really early in the morning. The echoes of healing are apparent in many posts and recipes I’ve published in the last three years. Seeing a holistic nutritionist (Cheryl Harris of Harris Whole Health and Gluten Free Goodness) probably saved my life. She encouraged me to take small steps, read Johnston’s (2000) Eating in the Light of the Moon: How Women Can Transform Their Relationship with Food Through Myths, Metaphors, and Storytelling, and I slowly changed how I perceived eating and food. My self worth and image built itself up and, in increments, stopped focusing on calories and focused more on what my body needed and when.

Being diagnosed with hypothyroidism in 2011 also changed by body image and eating habits, and it really helped in knowing my struggles with weight weren’t entirely my fault. Yes, I could have eaten healthier and exercised more, but growing up with an underactive thyroid literally makes you the underdog. Not only does your metabolism suffer, everything does. How could I be healthy when I was sick all the time? How could I get better if it was my body that wasn’t working?

Since receiving treatment, I’ve noticed my body doesn’t get sick as often or as easily. And the slow change of feeling like I have to exercise to wanting to exercise as well as removing ‘good’ and ‘bad’  as labels for food (also called orthorexia, or a fixation of only eating what the person believes is healthy or ‘good’ food) really helped transform my mindset toward loving my body. I still have old paradigms rear their ugly heads when I’m stressed or feeling vulnerable, but I know where I am right now is a pretty awesome place to be.

The last thing that really changed everything for me was doing the Insanity Challenge. I went from 125 lbs to 142 lbs, eating up to 2500 calories to maintain efficiency. I started learning how to take cues from my body, and was absolutely fascinated how I became more solid, but didn’t get bigger. In horror, I realized just how much I denied my poor body nutrients in the name of fairytale beauty. I knew in theory that not eating enough will actually keep you from losing weight because your body is trying to keep you alive. But after completing the Insanity Workout, it finally resonated.

Even today, while I have moments (and they are fleeting, I’m happy to say) where I think I’m not pretty enough, smart enough, thin enough, whatever enough, I have a fantastic support system and I am dulling the words of that harsh Inner Critic we are all capable of having. I cook and eat because food nourishes my body and my soul. I exercise to see how my strength has improved physically and mentally. I have learned to treat myself with compassion and empathy, and am learning what situations open the door for negative thoughts (usually sleep deprivation, sickness, or getting stuck inside my own head for too long).

The one thing I really hope the world comes to realize is that people who suffer disordered eating do not do it for attention, and telling them about how there are people without food in other parts of the world do not help. And while it helps to receive reassurance (because I admit to needing reassurance from time to time), the only thing that will change their outlook on themselves and the need of control is their desire to change it. It may mean getting professional help (as I had), changing the environment that encourages this disorder, and taking as well as celebrating the little steps. And while I believe it is most certainly acceptable to change yourself to feel better health-wise, I have learned that seeking perfection is impossible, mostly because there is no such thing as the perfect person. It's okay to be any weight that makes you feel comfortable, so as long as you don't risk your health or happiness to get there. It's also okay to have a 'type', but just remember that the other types out there are equally awesome.

It also means looking at body shaming as it is: a form of violence and bullying. We need to stop focusing on beauty as a surface phenomenon and looking to create the word to mean something that is all-inclusive. Let's stop comparing ourselves to one another and looking for acceptance based on what the scale says or what the media tells us. We need to stop diminishing someone's worth based on their appearance, and STOP STOP STOP saying someone isn't beautiful in order to make someone else feel that they are. It is NOT okay. And the first step to achieving this is inward.

I am so grateful to my family, friends, and partner for changing my life. And thank you all who were so brave as to sharing their stories, with me personally, and on Post Secret. And for those who are still suffering, are recovering, and everywhere in between, I want to say this to you:

• You are beautiful in the present. At this very moment, you are the perfect you and you are on the path you need to take.
• You are the ideal you.
• You matter.
• You are loved, honored, and appreciated for being yourself.
• No one’s opinions of what you should look like or be like is important. The only thing that matters is how you feel.
• It does get better. I promise you.

I made this recipe as a way to honor those struggles, and to reach out to others. Following this recipe are some stories about disordered eating and body image. I cannot express to you how much I appreciated the bravery of these individuals to share their story. It will be updated throughout the week, but feel free to leave a comment also.

Mashed Potato Biscuit Hearts

420 g mashed potatoes*
75 g Garbanzo bean flour
100 g ground almonds (i.e., blanched almond flour)
65 g Brown rice flour
60 g Flaxseed meal
120 ml Whole milk
1 Large egg
1 tsp. Sea salt
3/4 tsp. Baking soda
3/4 tsp. Cream of Tartar

Preheat the oven to 375°F/190°C.
Mix together the wet ingredients (potatoes, milk, and egg) in a large bowl and add the dry (the dough will be a bit tacky).
Let the dough sit for five minutes.
On a floured surface, take a handful of dough** and flatten it to about an inch thick.
Using a heart-shaped cookie cutter (or any for that matter), press through the dough and place the cutouts onto a greased baking sheet (or parchment paper).
Continue to do so until all the dough has been formed, and bake for 30 minutes or until golden brown.
Remove from the oven and let them cool for about 10 minutes before eating.
Can be served hot or cold.

Makes 11 or more biscuits, depending on cutout size.

* I used the potato ricer to make the mashed potatoes and didn't add anything to them.

** I found it easier to take a handful of dough at a time than to just roll it out and cut.

Other's Stories (Coming Soon)

Story 1: The Legacy
The Influence of family: My first negative body image messages came from my own mother when I entered puberty. She made me self conscious about my weight gain. (Replaying the messages from her own mother about her struggles with weight gain. To lose weight that she gained during her own puberty, she ate only mayonnaise sandwiches for an entire summer. She did some severe dieting after each of her children to lose the baby weight, which affected her mood and energy levels.) I also remember my father making comments that 125 lbs was an ideal weight (for my mom) so that was a weight goal I strived to attain. No matter that I was actually 3 inches taller and actually looked ghastly at 125 lbs. As a result, I went through puberty and early adolescence (in the 1970’s)  “knowing” that I was “fat” and unattractive. As a result, I became anorexic in my mid-teens, something that was acerbated by a bout of mononucleosis.

The influence of media and product advertisements: Dress size, body weight, body image, attractiveness and perceived sexual desirability have always been interconnected. No matter that I actually felt my best when I weighed a certain amount. In order to fit into certain styles of clothing, I had to be a certain size. In order to accentuate my eyes and my cheekbones I needed to have a certain contour to my face (achieved only by dieting). The mirror: It lies. What I see is not what others see. As a result I have to use a tape measure; it doesn’t lie.

My regrets: I hate how I look. I have always hated how I look. Once in a while, when some time has passed and I see a picture of myself, I think, “Wow! I look really great in that picture.” But, if I think back to when the picture was taken and how I felt about my looks, I would say that I felt ugly or at least not attractive.

Legacy: I have watched helplessly as my own daughter has struggled with this amorphous monster, wondering what I could have done that I didn’t do; how I could have better protected her from the jaws of this gaping beast. I tried to offer unconditional love and support as she has struggled. I tried to keep my own self criticism and self esteem issues to myself. I tried to make every effort to not taint her with the family legacy of toxic messaging. I have tried to be her best cheer leader. But, as evidenced by her very public struggles with disordered eating, love isn’t enough. This dis-ease is insidious. It’s in our wiring, it’s in our cells…

Morri in Malta

It’s hard to begin again after such a long hiatus. Graduate school, for lack of better words, is done. All I have left is the internship credits I will be completing in Malta and four more class credits I will complete online or as independent study. 

Malta goes all out around Christmastime

Meals with Morri, I am sad to say, was put on hold. The fall semester was freaking hard. At midterms, I just couldn’t focus. I had to give up a day of work just to have those three extra hours I didn’t have. My social life and my academic studies were greatly reduced because of recurring anxiety attacks and exhaustion. I didn’t rock climb. I didn’t do Insanity. I didn’t make recipes. I didn’t write. But I did get through it with A’s, and yes, it was worth bearing through.

So now I am in Malta for the 2014 year. I have an apartment near where I work. I spent quality time with Mama Dazz for the first ten days while I finished my finals. And for anyone who decides it is a good idea to move halfway across the world and finish three finals at the same time… seriously reconsider. 

Malta is so different than Virginia: an island so compacted with people and history and streets it is easy to get overwhelmed. The culture is vibrant and intimate: everyone knows everyone. The buildings are named, and directions are based on localized markers that only the people who have lived here all their lives could possibly know. And the people are quite possibly the friendliest and most accommodating I have ever met. 

As anyone with health concerns and dietary preferences can tell you, there is more to preparing for a trip than just buying the plane ticket or hotel room. There’s this physical dread of whether or not you will be able to eat anything substantial, whether or not people will understand – let alone know – what ‘[allergen] free’ is. There’s medication and supplements to have the pharmacy pack. There’s the insurance company to talk with about prescription travel overrides. There’s research on restaurants and nearby supermarkets to confirm, and whether or not the plane’s meal options are exactly what you can eat. It can be a downright terrifying experience, and you haven’t even boarded the plane yet.  

But Malta is different. The Mediterranean concept of food – simple, wholesome, and adaptable – reigns supreme here. In a place where a marathon is longer than the country is and the next city is literally next to the one you are in, the term ‘local’ is serious business. Small and specialized markets are found at practically every street corner and parking lot. Depending on the time of day, a produce truck will come by with their freshly picked fruits and vegetables to sell. Orange trees are common sights, and it takes every ounce of my being to not pluck one from someone’s yard to eat something with all of its richness still intact.

Perhaps it’s the feeling that I’ve left behind all the stress, but I cannot believe how many posts I want to write: how to search for gluten free items in a new country; how to turn gluteny Maltese favorites into gluten free delights; my experiences regarding my internship in a conflict resolution perspective; rock climbing excursions; restaurant reviews and EU food policies; practicing and enhancing my photography technique; keeping in touch with the people back home and making new friends; and mainly, how Malta made this gluten freer feel welcomed, accepted, and a little more confident.

Naturally, gelato is everywhere.

Homemade Gnocchi (recipe still in the works)

I don’t know how often I’ll post, considering I’ve never really lived on my own or worked a forty-hour work week longer than a month or two before, but I am most certainly going to try to not let there be months in between. Luckily, I have CK to keep me company until after the holidays.

Today's Menu: Stress-free Soup

With all the progress I have made since the start of the year, I thought my health would be at its peak when spring came along. The birds started singing and the weather began to warm (as far as strange Virginia weather is concerned), and I thought it meant that I had it all together.

But health isn’t like that. It isn’t some commodity you need to only focus on once and you’re good for life. It’s a lifetime responsibility, and one you should never take lightly. So when school resumed from Spring Break, I found it harder and harder to do my daily responsibilities. I slept whenever I could, and all my plans for my mornings were left undone as I nestled further underneath my warm quilts and blankets.

It was heartbreaking to see that weeks had passed without a single recipe written down and plans with friends cancelled because I was so tired. Frustration seeped in to my otherwise bubbly demeanor when I saw my winter troubles reappear. I admonished myself for not having the capacity to handle nine credit hours of school, plus work, plus climbing, plus a social life of some description. The stress was getting to be too much.

This likely started with an old acquaintance of mine dying in February, and I spent the majority of March padding along in morose reflection. Death and dying, school and career possibilities, old relationships and new loves… this was my mindset. Perhaps that was why I chose to either push myself beyond exhaustion with sixteen- (sometimes eighteen) hour days with less than six hours of sleep or nap when I had the free time. I didn’t want to think about the building emotions whose intensity I couldn’t discern. I didn’t want to think about anything other than my obligations to other people; and as I result I forgot who I was and why I do what I do. Among other things, Meals with Morri was terribly neglected.

I didn’t think J’s death would affect me as much as it did. At most we were friendly acquaintances a couple summers ago who shared amazing conversations about identity, gender, and love. When I learned he had died, I felt a part of my Universe shift. Everyone who has ever passed through your life matters, no matter the time or the impact. Everyone matters, and I frantically tried to make everything equally important. A month later, I officially crashed and was so burnt out from the self-inflicted stress I carried. I spent all of yesterday in bed, leaving work after an hour, with school and social plans discarded. I slept and I dreamed and I recharged, three things I hope to never take advantage of ever again.

This soup is the kind of food everyone should have when life seems too real and you need a mental health day. It isn't the prettiest of soups, true, but it is perfect to sip on in bed while you catch up on your reading or on the couch as you watch uplifting comedies. Better yet, have it with the people you love at the dinner table, reflecting upon one of  life’s greatest lessons: 

“Be mindful. Be grateful. Be alive.” (Mama Dazz)

Creamy Celery Soup

24 Celery stalks, coarsely chopped
450 g Sliced leeks
4 (536 g) Red potatoes, peeled and cubed
4 Garlic cloves
2 tsp. Sea salt
1 tsp. Cracked pepper
Pinch of rosemary powder
Dash of nutmeg

In a large pot or pressure cooker, combine all of the ingredients and pour water just an inch below the line of vegetables (more or less, depending on your preference of soup thickness).
Cover the pot and place on medium heat to cook for 45 minutes to an hour or until all of the vegetables have softened.
Turn off the heat and use an emulsion blender to puree the ingredients smooth. (Should it be too thick for your taste, add a little water at a time and place on medium heat until at the desired consistency.)
Pour into bowls/mugs and serve hot.

Makes 6 – 8 servings.

Taking Charge of Anxiety and Stress

I admit that, when I last wrote, I was still knee deep in fight-or-flight mode. My sentences were run-ons and manically distributed. The words I used were emotionally driven and hectic. My stories were jumbled together and I had just started the process of coming down to Earth from a lifetime of stress and anxiety. A chill pill would have worked wonders during those two weeks of uncertainty, followed by a hot cup of herbal tea and warm milk.

(source)

Whenever I talk about taking medication - in this case I mean the antibiotic and the antispasmodic - I worry about perceiving myself as a hypocrite. After all, I often write how I am all for using natural means for healing. Be it with the food/supplements I eat, the thoughts I think, and the actions I do, I exhaust every option I can think of before even considering the idea of taking a pharmaceutical drug. Getting an artificially dyed pill from a doctor in a lab coat is a last resort thing for me. And I was definitely in the “last resort” category not too long ago.

So I took the medicine and I am gradually healing from the inside out. I am feeling better than I have in years, and I celebrate the changes: I can discern hunger, and I’m not as hungry as I once was; my activity level has skyrocketed while my fatigue has decreased; my mood is level and I’m not overexerting the good mood image (I am simply in a good mood); my skin is clearing up and my organs are starting to function properly; I'm sleeping (a big factor in all this); and I do not feel rushed or overwhelmed.

“The truth is somewhere in the middle.”  When I said this, I originally meant this as a way to balance the various practices and professionals I’ve gone to for healing purposes. This statement is also true for the concept of healing in general, and this post is dedicated to how I'm working on making this happen.

Along with the prescribed medicine I’ll be taking temporarily, I wanted to find ways of healing that I would feel empowered doing in the long run. I considered the gastroenterologist’s diagnosis of ASD, and how once upon a time another gastroenterologist tried curing my supposed “depression” with an antidepressant. I didn’t want to take a pill that altered my brain chemistry and played ping-pong with my emotions. I wanted to learn how to bring myself back to a peaceful baseline and essentially change how I handled stress in a positive and loving way.

(Note: What I’m about to share is in no way a formal treatment to ASD, IBS, or any other health concerns you may have. These statements are personal opinions and things I’ve tried that are working for me. Please consider this as you read on.)

I had received wonderful suggestions when I’d asked for advice last time. Emails, social media comments, and words face-to-face offered support and food essentials for tummy troubles and antibiotics. Oddly enough, no one really touched on the ASD aspect, and I think I know why.

We are part of a global paradigm where stress means productivity. At least in my interpretation of Western culture, we have to be “on” all the time to feel like we’re doing something meaningful with our lives. In many cases, and this resonates with me also, we have been in “fight or flight” mode for so long we don’t even remember what being at peace is. We become bored with inaction, and worried that we are stagnating progression. We lose our self-awareness with constant pressure from our inner dialogue, perceived expectations, over-stimulation, and over-scheduling.

Stress and anxiety are normalized internally. When we experience the adrenaline rush and adrenal fatigue over a significant period of time, our body gets used to the highs and lows of both, and our baseline adapts to being at the height of Mount Everest rather than sea level. A bit extreme, I know, but I want you to understand how crucial it is to nip chronic stress and anxiety in the bud and how small changes can leave a big impact on your health.

The first steps I started working with were self-awareness and acceptance. I asked myself questions like: How are you feeling? What are you feeling and what caused that feeling to occur? Is your mind racing and heart pounding when you’re trying to sleep/meditate/calm down? What external factors are affecting you internally, for good or ill? Acceptance is a hard thing indeed, for we are our toughest critics. Thoughts like “What do I have to be stressed about?” and “Come on, Dummy, this isn't hard!  Why can’t I do this?” can plague the chronically stressed and anxious. When we are in this state, it is extremely hard to see the big picture because we are so hyper-focused on the mini crises all the time.   

I learned that by being in a constant state of distress, I was hungry all the time. When I was stressed and anxious, I snacked on nut butters, rice crackers, and smoothies. Add that to my tummy troubles and my habit of not getting enough sleep, I was too fatigued and in too much pain to be active in my daily life. I used the medication prescribed to me as a tool to remove my body woes from the equation to turn my focus then on what was going on upstairs behind my pretty face.

The second step for me was analyzing the life I live with love and compassion. What are the things most important to me? What can I place on a shelf to work on later? What do I keep? What do I let go or change? These questions led me to the journey of finding an inner calm and adjusting the structures of my life to suit me.

There are certain ways to calm yourself, and you do not have to do it alone or by your own design to get positive results. To increase my own ability at achieving a steady baseline, I looked to meditation. I was advised to do fifteen minutes a day, but my mind tends to wander and think of all the things I need to/have to/should be doing. So I became even more frustrated when I was unable to return to mindfulness and stressed by those precious minutes wasted on trying.

The answer for me was guided meditation, and there are many sources out there varying in length, type, and technique.

“But I don’t have time to meditate and sit still”, you say. “I have all these obligations to do…”

Stop. right. there. When you are in this mindset, of course you won’t have time. And my answer to that can be shown in this image:

(source)

As I said, guided meditation is helpful for me because I can focus on a voice and the instructions I am being given. For 10 – 20 minutes (or more), all that matters is my breathing, resetting my brain, and reveling in the possibility in how it will affect my day for the better. I find doing it in it the morning (though not necessarily right when I wake up) and/or before bed good times for me, but choose times that work for your schedule.

(source)

This leads to another crucial aspect in lowering stress and anxiety for me: routine. Now, I’m not talking about being a “slave to routine” as the comic above implies. I’m talking about having something your body can work with, a way to regulate and manage yourself and what matters most to you. Since graduation (and quite possibly before that), I was flying from one thing to the next – blind and awkward in between – doing everything I could to stay upright. Instead of planning by the hour for everything I do (as I tried to and bombed at), I’ve laid out my weekdays in morning, afternoon, and evening time-slots. I have days where I am climbing or doing other forms of exercise and completing a certain chore/task for the house. I have definitive times when I’m working or at school. I have days dedicated to studying, and an evening or two dedicated to whatever it is I may treat myself to. From doing it this way, I found that I not only have more time than I thought; I also have focus and energy without becoming overwhelmed. Work and play are becoming wonderfully balanced.

The final reflection I’d like to share is to not sacrifice taking care of yourself in order to “get things done”. I admit there are still days in the week I perceive I have a lot to do and the consequence is getting less sleep/relaxation than I’d like. For example: On Tuesdays my class gets out at 10:00 p.m., and then I am up at 5:00 Wednesday morning to climb. I know that I’ll get less than seven hours of sleep in between, so it’s just a matter of adjusting certain variables to ensure I’m doing all I can to not return to that unhealthy cycle. Be honest with yourself and others when everything in your being is telling you to chill out. And when stress and panic arises, don’t beat yourself up about it; instead, take pride knowing you realized what’s going on and take as long as you need to bring yourself out of survival mode. 

The Truth is Somewhere in the Middle

Warning: may contain less than pleasant descriptions of bodily functions and words of ranting, needing advice, and strong-ish language.

Ever have those moments where you perceive that everything is happening at once and time is moving faster than you can handle and run-on sentences suddenly make sense and your body is exhausted and your mind keeps going and then… BAM! You hit a wall.

Yeah, I absolutely “adore” those moments too.

As mentioned in my last post (an astonishing two weeks ago), I’ve had tummy troubles. This term is an understatement, but I try to keep the content of this blog as family friendly as possible. I was so terrified of my symptoms and the pain that I scheduled two ASAP appointments with a gastroenterologist and an urologist. Add the fear of the unknown with emotional/hormonal upset in the form of body image obsession… My two weeks MIA from MWM have not been all rainbows and free hugs. But goodness, I wish it had been.

For a week it seemed like I was balancing a number of plates in the air with spectators looking on, ready for a good laugh. I wanted to do so much, be so much, in a short time frame. And instead, when everything was expected to crash down, porcelain shards littering the floor, some spectators were kind enough to join the act in assisting. Some plates were added and others removed, but little by little I could balance the aspects of my life. And while I was overwhelmed by it all, it isn’t as bad as it was.

If I could list all the plates I have been balancing based on their importance and priority and my focus of them, it would be thus: Health (includes all aspects), Grad school, Future, Miscellaneous obligations, Work, Family and Friends, Meals with Morri, and so on. The overall feeling of crappiness health-wise bled onto the other plates, and I was so exhausted and so stressed out and internally so toxic it started to physically manifest in the form of bloating and red bumps around my eyes, hands, and elbows.

I waited and waited and waited until I couldn’t take it anymore. The pain was terrible, the Google searches foretold impending doom, and the inner dialogue was scattered and anxious. Doctors’ offices were called and appointments were made. And if there is one moral in this story, people, it is the following:

“The truth is somewhere in the middle.”

The gastroenterologist I met with is an esteemed practitioner in his field of practice. Mama Dazz even visited him back when she was in her early twenties and recommended his expertise. With appointments like this I tend to be nervous. I lose all sorts of control and power when presented to doctors in general, so it was nice to have her come with me. I walk into his office and the usual questions are asked: Why are you seeing me today? How long have you experienced these symptoms? What have you done thus far in regards to treatment, management, etc.? What additional medications are you taking? What does your diet look like…?

The last two questions resulted in him essentially going into a tirade about how as far as he could see, a healthy young woman did not need hypothyroid medication and most certainly should not be on a gluten/soy/refined sugar free diet. From this conversation I was shaken to the core. This person did not know my history and had only one doctor-patient meeting to go on. He did not know how much better I felt eating the foods I ate, or how the Armour Thyroid did indeed affect my life positively. I felt so small leaving his office. I began to cry when the discussion turned to possibly having to incorporate gluten and soy based foods in my diet for tangible analysis in future blood work, to stop taking my hypothyroid medicine, and to think about a colonoscopy in the next couple of weeks (his recommendation, but not something I plan on doing right now).

Upon reflection, I realized I was given a broader image of what ethics and values the health industry contained. The majority of my health providers (such as Hurlock and Harris) are holistically based. They tend to focus on the intangible evidence and have a more qualitative outlook on healing. The gastroenterologist, however, as I perceived him is a man of numbers and facts, needing tangible evidence to satisfy his quantitative logic. My other grievance was, along with his strong opinions about my life, he didn’t really provide me with any answers, only diagnosing me with terms I’ve had been labeled with all my life. He mentioned ASD (anxiety stress disorder) and IBS, but I knew that already. What I didn't know was how I could fix a lifetime of adrenal fatigue and self-imposed stress and how my symptoms tied into it.

The urologist, another esteemed practitioner (who reminded me of the stereotypical grandfather image giving advice while on a fishing trip) was a little softer in his quantitative logic and needs for tangible evidence. Instead he listened and pondered and asked questions when appropriate. His practice was in no way what I’d consider an alternative practice, by his demeanor was. I felt no judgment as we talked about possible reasons as to why the UTI and other symptoms were happening now, and if his options matched my values and ethics. I was reserved at the thought of being on low dose antibiotics and very powerful antispasmodics for the next three months, but I do feel the difference after a week of treatment. 

The truth is somewhere in the middle, and for me that means joining the two logics and needs for evidence to see the bigger picture regarding my health. I can’t help the world sick. It’s as simple as that.

I end this long and non-recipe based post with a request. I am currently looking into other ways of stress management and anxiety diminishers. If anyone has had any experience similar to what I’ve gone through, from mindfulness exercises to probiotic recipes to balancing the antibiotic’s side effects, I’d love to hear from you.