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.

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. 

Not Quite the Caveman

My experiment with going Primal for "Good Nutrition Month" ended after three weeks. I couldn’t tell you when exactly it went awry, but I could tell you something was wrong before my birthday, and probably as early as a week into the dietary lifestyle change. All I know is I am honoring "Good Nutrition Month" by switching back to my old routine, though I still feel a little guilty not keeping it up for another week. 

When I said going Primal isn’t as difficult as you think it is, I truly meant it. For one, three weeks of no legumes, grains, no coffee, and limited fruit/sweetener intake was a challenge and an interesting way of evaluating my past and present dietary lifestyle. I was disappointed that my body reacted the way it did, as I was so excited to be part of the modern caveman experience, to positively figure out what my body needed in order to do what I wanted. I gawked at many of the people who ate this lifestyle, the majority who were “strictly” Paleo/Primal while others used a creative license (but nonetheless have a less-processed ethical-omnivore way of looking at food), and I was inspired to do the same. They were the epitome of "healthy" in my eyes, absolutely and marvelously in shape and beautiful in every way possible.

So I took out legumes and grains and incorporated raw and cultured dairy products. I went through the first week craving fruits and eating a ton of almond butter, followed by my appetite beginning to finally subside and mellow. The removal of coffee and the addition of progesterone to my hormonal therapy followed. Throughout October and part of November did I realize I was back to using food and exercise as a means of controlling my body to balance the uncontrollable situations coming at me in waves. With that came terrible IBS upset, intense intestinal distress, and shifting from one emotion to another in a matter of seconds.

I do not believe going Primal caused this imbalance; rather, I think doing too many good things at once finally caught up with me and turned sour. I do believe going from legume lover and grain glutton to “Me, Caveman. Four-leg, Dinner” overnight is not particularly smart for someone whose body stresses with immediate change. I do believe this experiment was worth it, and encourage people to try new ways of eating (safely and for the right reasons). And above all else, I do believe in honoring what my body tells me. When it says "enough", I listen. 

I loved making Primal meals, and I look forward to making them again. Perhaps two of the three main meals and all snacks throughout the day will have Primal tendencies. Perhaps four days out of the week will hold true to Mark’s Daily Apple “Primal Blueprint” movement while I enjoy huevos rancheros, overnight oats, socca, and legumes on the other three. I give what my body needs, and for the moment it needs gluten free grains and peanut butter. 

Reaching Acceptance & Letting Go

It was three-thirty in the morning when it happened. That same clawing hunger that I thought I’d tempered came back with a vengeance. And it doesn’t just come at three-thirty; sometimes it happens at two. Has it been weeks since I’ve slept over six hours at one time, or months? Regardless, I haven’t slept a full night for quite some time, simply because the hunger pains are relentless. It’s like all I do throughout the morning is eat, and then after dinner before bed I eat. I eat and I snack and I graze. I feel like a black hole that’s always empty, or a pot that never fills, even when you’re making rice for the whole family. 

It's never enough.

I eat and I eat and I’m frustrated. Actually, I’m not as frustrated as I was on Monday (or on Wednesday, when I started writing this post), but still I’m frustrated.

A couple of weeks ago I received a letter from my doctor regarding the bone density scan I had done in February. The results weren’t alarming, but they weren’t rays of sunshine either: my bone density was below average.

I remember watching the machine scan my hip, and how humbling it was to see my bones on the computer screen. It occurred to me how little I thought of what was under the skin, the muscles, the veins, and the blood. Beneath all that I never considered how real my bones were, how instead of being the body of a small universe there were these white masts I used as foundation. It was so grounding a thought that when I received that letter, I felt unreal, deflated, like I could feel the very things that were my foundation giving in to the weight of what it held together.

I was no longer immortal, and I was suddenly aware of my humanity.

The results could have been worse. They could have shown that I had the bones of a one-thousand-year-old mummy with no way of fixing it. Instead, it just merely pointed out that my bone density was below average, and the good news was that there was treatment. (The Doctor had mentioned that too much Armour Thyroid could cause bone loss; however, I think my low bone density was the consequence of years of disordered eating.) So with that in the back of my mind, with some of my early hypothyroid symptoms returning and being Hungry with a capital “H”, you can see how it can leave a girl frustrated.

The hardest part for me is not knowing why I am so hungry, and whether is has to do with: my thyroid condition or some other health factor I haven’t considered (hypoglycemia, mineral/vitamin deficiency, etc.); my fitness regimen of exercising six days a week; or, even with additional meals and snacking, I’m still not eating enough.

And there is the matter of considering that it’s all three.

I usually get emotional when I talk about having a hypothyroid condition. I feel really vulnerable when I do, and that is probably why I don’t write about it very often on Meals With Morri (I’ve talked about the treatment, but rarely the condition itself and how it affects me). I am not the condition, and I don’t view it as part of my identity as a person. There are days, however, when I can’t explain this overwhelming fatigue or when I’m suddenly intolerant of the heat or the cold. I get embarrassed of my cold hands and the yellowish hue when both symptoms flare up. I get discouraged because of the added complications that make it harder to keep weight off or lose weight in general. The biggest fear I’ve had as of late is if I eat more, despite my very active lifestyle, I’ll become the next incarnation of Budai (without the jolliness). 

(source)

So this week I’ve been experimenting by writing out what I’ve been eating, taking my pulse before I go to bed and after I wake up, and working on balancing my active lifestyle with my calorie intake. I’m still waking up early, and I weigh no more than I did when I was weighed before my bone density was scanned. But if getting my bones in tiptop shape means weighing more, or if eating enough to sleep a full night in peace means I am destined to weigh (on average) 125 pounds, I accept those terms.

To be honest, fighting your body for what you believe to be best is hard work, especially when there is more than one way to being right. I could fight (and have been fighting) against my health’s shortcomings or I could work with them and accommodate those needs accordingly.

I’m done being my worst enemy, and I’m finally ready to be my best friend. I’m ready to work with my whole self to finding what works and what doesn’t work for me. Sure, I may get frustrated and I may have days when my symptoms flare up. And yes, there will be days I think it’s unfair that I can’t wear a size 4 dress. But having the health that I have has taught me the importance of pacing myself, being honest, going with the flow, and to never give up trying. It shows how marvelous life truly is in all of its twists and turns and complexities.

I may have gotten up earlier than I wanted to today with a sniffle and a sneeze, and I may have “a rumbly in my tumbly” like a certain Silly Old (Taoist) Bear, but I smile and I enjoy the beautiful spring day as it is.

And really, that’s all we can ever ask for.

Simply Green Brown Rice

360 g Sprouted brown rice
500 ml Water (or more if you want a creamier consistency)
15 ml Unrefined apple cider vinegar
3 tsp. Minced dried onion
1 tsp. Sea salt
1/2 tsp. Herb de Provence
1/4 tsp. Whole cumin seeds
1/4 tsp. Cracked pepper
1/4 tsp. Dried tarragon
1 bunch (126 g) Curly leaf parsley
Juice of 1 Lemon
30 ml Olive oil

1 Lemon, cut into wedges and served as garnish

Combine the rice, water, vinegar, and spices into a pressure/rice cooker or medium saucepan and cook until the rice has softened and taken a creamy consistency (time will vary based on how you usually prepare brown rice and how much water you put in).
Place the parsley, lemon juice, and olive oil in a food processor and pulse until the ingredients form a pesto-like quality.
Fold in the parsley mixture with the rice, and then serve warm with the lemon wedges on top.

Makes 8 servings.

November Reflections: Grain-Free and almost Stress-Free

I had so many blog posts I wanted to do, explicitly focused on my birthday, my talk with Cheryl, my grain-free week, and a few recipes as well. But life had different plans for me, and for the first time I am totally okay with it.

Ostkaka: my birthday "cake"

My birthday week was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that it went by in a blur of rain, school, and work. Both my Anthropology teachers canceled their classes on my birthday (divine intervention, perhaps) to attend conferences in Montreal and New Orleans, so I spent my day doing absolutely nothing. And as I mentioned before, I’ve been trying out the grain-free, one fruit a day (not including the lemon water I use for drinking down FiveLac), and no additional sweeteners, I didn’t have a cake specially made for the occasion. I did, however, have a piece of ostkaka I made on the 14th to celebrate Sweden’s “Day of Ostkaka,” a food holiday established in 2004. Oddly enough, it was the same “cake” I had in Sweden for my birthday last year.

I miss those times. I really, really do. My last semester of school had left me a stressed, anti-social mess, with a sore throat and a dry cough that finally went away after two (plus) weeks. I would have loved to go out on my birthday with the people I’ve been neglecting, but I was just so tired that all I wanted to do is sleep. I thought it was the whole grain-free thing, but really I was underestimating just how compromised my immune system was with the getting glutened-flu double whammy hullabaloo.

For a while I was still getting headaches, though the FiveLac keeps me from being hungry an hour after eating a full meal. I can wait until after six to eat dinner instead of having to eat right at five. My digestion is doing awesomely, and I think my hormone imbalance is leveling itself. I thought I had to increase my Armour Thyroid to 90-30-90 due to the emergence of previous symptoms (i.e., lower body temperature, cold hands and feet, yellowish palms and fingertips), but after acknowledging the headaches being stress related (and also for thinking too much) they’ve miraculously gone away.

Grain-Free "Granola" Bowl

As far as drastically changing my diet for the long term, Cheryl recommends I get tested for Candida until I officially go down the ACD or SCD route. For now I like being grain-free, white carb-free, and eating one fruit serving a day (most days). I’m noticing that I’m not as hungry, I’m fuller longer, and for the first time this Sunday I was actually hungry.

Interesting, isn’t it? Instead of eating when I was hungry I was eating because I was programmed to eat at a specific time. There is a difference to a hungry stomach and a stomach experiencing discomfort. For as long as I’ve been blogging, I ate to feed the headaches and I ate after eating to feed the “hunger” pains. After this weekend, filled with a family meditation seminar, the headaches went away and I slept. I mean, I actually slept in a way I thought was lost to me. Before the meditation I thought I had been too grounded to let go of all the stress. I am feeling more in my body than I have for two years. My hands are finally warm, and school (and graduation) isn’t so scary anymore.

With two weeks of school left after Thanksgiving weekend, I am definitely looking into doing Kundalini yoga again. Being grounded is at the heart of being healthy. And if I’m going to change the world and nourish the people in it, I have to live by example and nourish myself. Since I've returned to running and working with the munchkins at the community center, I need to be eating more than I have been if I don't want any more zombie nightmares. It's day four of warm hands, so I must be doing something right.

Honesty, Health, and Stew Beef Enchiladas

The beauty of the human condition is how broad personal experiences can be, especially when there is a willingness to share them with others. That is one of the reasons I started this blog in the first place; I want to share what I’ve learned and reflect the impact reading what others have experienced.

And I want to do it every time I post.

My next post: Spiraling Spirulina Oatmeal

There are two bloggers who’ve each posted an entry that really struck home for me. Shauna of Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef wrote about the dark side of blogging (titled "warm brown rice and grilled vegetable salad"), about how people choose to use the anonymity of the Internet to be cruel, and basically make themselves feel all-powerful by using hurtful words in attempt to belittle another.

No one has done this to me through my blog, but after the house fell through, one of the landlords’ kids (and once a friend of mine) sent me a message through Facebook saying how dare I disrespect my roommates and her home. Her last statement was this: “Good luck finding an apartment. I hope it takes you months.” It’s not like she was outlandishly malicious or anything, because she was angry and that’s how she felt. I responded with an “I’m sorry you feel that way…” sort of spiel and said I found a place that was just what I needed. As of now I am commuting to school from home, and as the consequence of living at home, I am slowly moving and unpacking all my things in the manner to my liking. The boyfriend is staying in the guest bedroom, and as mentioned in my last post, I am happier than I’ve been in months.

In a matter of days, however, new friends filled the void, and it just keeps getting better and better. Misery loves company, and it doesn’t like those who soar high overhead above it. Shauna embodies that tenfold. She has a life filled to the brim with joy and prosperity that some envy and possibly resent, so they nitpick the most ridiculous of things just to bring her down to their level. But she doesn’t go down, not even a centimeter; she simply flies even higher.

Yesterday, Iris of The Daily Dietribe wrote a post titled “Does She Really Have a Food Sensitivity or is it an Eating Disorder?” As I was reading, I couldn’t help but think how much it related to my experiences, particularly when people give me that “look” when I tell them I can’t eat something they made especially for me. It sucks when I go over to a house and know I can’t eat much or anything being offered, because that means I have to deny a very intimate connection that food seems to offer interpersonally. It sucks that I have to be so anal and paranoid when I go to a restaurant (if at all), sometimes even eating beforehand so my stomach won’t grumble as I watch people enjoy their orders. And yes, sometimes I do wonder if I have an eating sensitivity or if it is purely a psychological malfunction, an eating disorder that manifests discomfort every time I accidentally consume something on my “Red” list. Maybe it’s a bit of both, but all I know is I feel better not eating wheat, soy, refined sugars, artificial flavors and sweeteners, anything processed, and weird chemically things found in food I can’t pronounce.

So do I have a form of disordered eating? Maybe. Probably. I certainly used to be: excessively counting calories, limiting food intake, exercising a certain amount of calories at a time (also known as exercise bulimia), and had panic attacks when something not Morri-friendly entered in my system without my knowledge. I’m part of a cooking club at the University (Café GMU), and to make up for my inability to eat anything, even when gluten-free bread like Udi’s is being provided, I help in the kitchen and make people laugh. Do I wish I could taste the food? Of course I do. I always do. I never binged on food I restricted from my diet, but I dream about it often. Why, just last night I dreamed of pita bread rising in the oven, and the night before I dreamed of eating a muffin, a gluten-filled muffin. Sometimes in my dreams I wonder why I bother being gluten-free, and I take a bite and savor the taste with every chew until I swallow. Seconds later, I panic, and wake up wondering if I really did eat it because of the vividness of the act. It’s better than my reoccurring zombie nightmares, but still, it is always a very uncomfortable and upsetting thing to dream about.

I’m telling you this because these two amazing and strong women have been upfront and honest with what they go through, the good and the bad. As for me, the idea of being honest about the struggles behind the scenes seems, well, unnerving. I’ve talked about disordered eating and fanatically exercising before, but I didn’t talk about the things beneath the surface. I never talked about my hypothyroid condition in length, or how my bowels and digestion were delicate and fickle. And because I was afraid of people I knew thinking what I wrote to be a “too much information” sort of thing, I didn’t mention my hormones being topsy-turvy because my menstrual cycle was either obscenely light or non-existent.

Well, I’m being honest now.

Last year, from May to about February, I went nine months with only one period from that summer up to coming back to Mason from my semester in Sweden. That was before I was diagnosed with a hypothyroid, and it may have been that I was simply not eating enough for my body to believe I wasn’t starving. Regardless, I felt less of a woman, and it impacted my life more I than I realized. That’s what happened on Friday; after a four-month hiatus, Lady Red came to town. Something shifted, and immediately I realized my down-in-the-dumps attitude was because of an extended version of pre-menstrual symptoms (a better terminology for PMS), that made me fatigued, in a funk, not wanting to fix what I could fix, and wanting to hide under the covers until it was all over. Suddenly I felt connected to the world and The Way. The stress went away and those little things that affected me so negatively don’t even exist anymore. I am able to keep up with my classes and still make time for CARmunity as Director of Student Representatives and Diplomatic Affairs in S/CAR. I have the energy to go to the gym and was pleasantly surprised that I wasn’t as bad off as I thought I was. The current I fought so hard against is flowing to my pace, and I am beyond ecstatic and feel amazing. 

Stew Beef Enchilada

1.5 lbs. Lean stew beef meat, cut into manageable chunks
1 can (14.5 oz) Diced tomatoes
1 tsp. Chili powder
1 tsp. Chipotle powder
1 tsp. Paprika
1 tsp. Cumin
1 tsp. Trader Joe’s smoked sea salt (or whatever salt you have on hand)
1/4 tsp. Cracked pepper
1 tbsp. Unsweetened cocoa powder
3 tbsp. Olive oil
1 Shallot
3 Garlic cloves
8 oz Filtered water
8 oz Riesling
1 1/2 Green zucchini (medium-sized), finely grated
2 Carrots, finely grated
10 oz Ricotta
1 can (14 oz) Black beans, drained
12 Trader Joe’s Corn Tortillas
2.5 oz Pecorino Romano, finely grated

Preheat the oven to 375ºF.
With a pressure cooker or large pot, grease the bottom generously with olive oil and cook the meat on medium-high heat.
Put in the blender the tomatoes, spices, oil, shallot, garlic, and the water and blender until thoroughly pureed.
After the outside of the meat is cooked, though still raw in the middle, put half of the sauce including the Riesling in with the meat and cover the pressure cooker or pot with the lid, and cook of medium-low heat for at least half an hour.
Using a fork or a wooden spoon, tear apart the stew beef chunks into individual strands.
Grease a deep 9x9” pan and start the layering process, beginning with 4 tortillas on the bottom, then veggies, ricotta, meat, and beans, repeating once more with some of the sauce splashed throughout.
Top with the last 4 tortillas, the remaining sauce, and the Pecorino Romano.
Bake for 45 minutes to an hour until the cheese has browned and the sauce is bubbling.

Makes 6 – 8 servings.