Tag Archives: food

When Schizophrenia is not Your Only Challenge

30 Friday Mar 2018

Posted by in bipolar, caregivers, hope, mental illness, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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My writing partner, Joyce, is here from Virginia. We are creating a week-long writing retreat at my house. Last night, my husband, who loves to show people around our city, wanted to take Joyce out to Old Town. Old Town is the area where the Spanish first settled here. It is considered the “birthplace” of California. In Old Town there are dozens of Mexican restaurants, so we planned to go to one of the largest.

Joyce had never heard of or tried, potato tacos, and I happen to love potato tacos, so I told her all the wonders of them while we were driving in the car to the restaurant. When we arrived the line for seating was long, but we talked with each other and other people waiting in line, so the time went quickly.

Once we were seated and looked at the menu, Joyce decided to order the three taco plate, and she asked me if I wanted one of the potato tacos. I was going to order a side of refried beans and a taco, so Joyce’s suggestion was perfect.

The service was rather slow because the restaurant was packed (Spring break in Southern California), but when our food arrived Joyce offered me a taco off of her plate. There were tomatoes, and many other things mixed in with the potato that I can’t eat due to my diverticulitis. At first I tried scrapping the toppings off and away from the potatoes but there were too mixed up, so finally, I apologized and said, “I’ll have my beans. I’m sorry. I can’t eat that.”

In the past year, with health issues (diverticulitis and my back) I have had to say no, or no thank you, or sorry, I’ll have to pass, on more occasions than I can count. At first, I felt a lot of disappointment at not being able to indulge in things that I normally enjoy or consider my favorites. Now, I am so used to having to say no, that the disappointment doesn’t hit me very hard. Trust me, I wanted that potato taco, but for health reasons, it was a better choice not to take a risk and eat it.

I am learning through some of life’s challenges to be happy with what I can eat, enjoy, experience and not dwell on the things I miss out on. Not being able to eat popcorn (one of my favorite comfort foods), or tomatoes, or strawberries, or a whole list of other foods is not the worst thing that has happened to me. Me having to say no every day to things I want and enjoy has become like a meditation in gratitude.

I might not be able to have everything I want, but I am thankful for the things I can have, and I am starting to believe I take greater pleasure in the simplest things. Not being able to have everything I want is not a bad thing, it can build character and appreciation. I believe in self-care, but always saying yes to ourselves can lead to money problems, health problems, and other negative things. I’m getting good at looking for the positive in adversity and challenges, and I think it is serving me well. I’m happy, grateful and as healthy as can be expected and that is more important than handful after handful of buttery popcorn, or that scrumptious potato taco.

The Therapy in Little Things

09 Saturday Dec 2017

Posted by in caregivers, mental illness, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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I read an article two weeks or so ago about self-care and how it isn’t about a manicure or pedicure or a bubble bath. How real self-care is about getting yourself to the doctor, dentist, making a budget and sticking to it, and all manner of adult things that make our lives run smoothly.

I feel like much of my life is self-care (not overlooking my husband’s role in my care). I have to eat at a certain time for my medication to work. I have to watch my food intake, so I don’t gain too much more weight. I have to watch my sugar, so I don’t develop diabetes. I have to get my blood pressure checked regularly. I have to keep my weight down because of high cholesterol. All of these things are side effects of my medication, and there is more – checking my liver for damage, etc.

There are things about being an adult that brings me a sense of comfort, stability, and pleasure. The same type of feeling that is used most commonly when people talk about self-care, but with what I am referring to it fits more under the way the author of that article meant self-care. One of those things is grocery shopping. I love grocery shopping. My husband and I usually go to the store once per week, sometimes we make a list and sometimes we just wing it.

I love picking out my food for the week and stocking up on things we use regularly. I also like to buy myself treats. This time of year, tea is a big thing for me. During the spring and summer I don’t drink tea after dinner, but during the fall and winter, I drink it almost every night.

When we get home, and we have 24 rolls of toilet paper, twelve rolls of paper towels, a pound of coffee, a few boxes of my favorite cereal, and all the fruits and veggies and cheese we will eat for a week, I feel secure. I feel comfortable. I feel safe. Yes, I even feel happy.  (We don’t use that much toilet paper or paper towels in a week, but when we buy them we get enough for a long time.)

Finding the little things in life that contribute to my well-being is important. Knowing that I feel the best with a full refrigerator, full pantry and full cupboards mean I will make an effort to go grocery shopping once a week. The same is true of my medications. When I have one to two weeks left of medication, I order it from the pharmacy. I never want to create a feeling of panic or an emergency over a lack of medication.

I know these things are simple, but not all of our treatment or those things that keep us well have to be super complicated.

I’m into the little things. I am. Those little things add up to mountains (and little things can be both positive or negative), and I for one want to be prepared for the terrain.

 

 

Mental Health With Your Meal

17 Wednesday Feb 2016

Posted by in mental illness, schizophrenia, Uncategorized, writing

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My husband and I woke up Monday morning and decided to walk to a restaurant for breakfast. We both wanted to try a place we had never been before. I needed to take my medication (I have to take it twice daily with a meal) so we didn’t have a lot of time to walk around the city reading different menus.

We walked to a place we have both wanted to try, and it was closed, so we took a right and kept walking. A block away we ran into Café Gratitude. We had read that Café Gratitude only served vegan food and that it was a place of positive affirmations, but we didn’t know anything else about it.

When we walked in our server, a young dark haired woman told us to sit where ever we wanted. Then she brought us water and asked if we had ever been there before. We both said, “No.”

“We only use plant based food. Everything is organic. It’s vegan. And when you are ordering off the menu, you start off by saying I AM. You see here? Coffee is Courageous, so if you wanted to order coffee, you would say, I Am Courageous. Can I get you anything to drink?”

My husband took a quick look at the menu and said, “I Am Courageous.”

Our server said, “You are courageous.”

I said, “Just water for me, thanks. But if I ordered I Am Beautiful (a muffin) could I get it right away before the rest of our food?” I wanted to eat something as soon as possible, so I could take my medication.

She went to check with the kitchen staff to see if the blueberry muffins were ready and they were so she brought one back and said, “You are beautiful.”

I wasn’t sure what a blueberry muffin would taste like without eggs, butter or milk, but it was pretty good (my husband loved it). It had the largest blueberries in it that I have ever seen, and they were still hot from the oven.

When our server came back, I ordered, I Am Outstanding (sprouted probiotic steel-cut oats, warm seasonal fruit compote, maple glazed walnuts, cashew crème fraiche).

My husband ordered,  Yo Soy Supremo (roasted heirloom potatoes, cashew macadamia cheddar, seasoned pinto beans, spinach, shredded romaine, coconut bacon, pico de gallo, avocado, side of spicy pickled vegetables, whole wheat tortilla, topped with toasted pumpkin seed salsa verde, cashew sour cream and goji chipotle sauce).

My oatmeal was the best I have ever tasted, but it wasn’t just the food that made me write about this restaurant. I felt like it was a good place for people with a mental illness to go. How often do people tell us, You Are Fantastic (raw cashew crepe), You Are Peace (raw open-faced bagel), You Are Open Hearted (gluten-free pancakes), and my favorite, You Are Beautiful?

We need to hear these things. I think everyone needs to hear them, but I think those with a mental illness need to hear them more than others. We need positive affirmations. We need nourishment. We need a Café Gratitude.  (Check to see if there is one in your city or town).

A Diet For The Mind

07 Sunday Feb 2016

Posted by in Uncategorized, writing

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Most people think a lot about what they put in their mouths. Many people eat a vegan, vegetarian, Paleo or gluten free diet. Other people eat low carb, no sugar, low-calorie diets to lose weight. The diet industry in the United States is a multibillion dollar industry. Food is an American obsession. I don’t follow any diet on a regular basis, but I often tell myself, “Wow, after those French fries, I need to eat some greens!” I try to get some fruits and vegetables in my diet every day, and many times I will practice a vegetarian diet for months at a time.

What if people gave the same thought to what they put in their minds as they do about what they put in their mouths? How much violence do you see in a day? How many stories do you read that are gossip posing as news? How much time do you spend playing video games? How much time do you spend on Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, or Snapchat?

When I took computer classes in school, the mantra that the professors used to say was, “Garbage in, garbage out.” This saying simply means if you put garbage into something all you can expect to get out is more garbage.  Sadly, I think this is true. If we don’t fill our minds with stories of compassion, hope, healing, health, love, redemption, beauty, etc. then how can we hope to get these things back out of our minds?

If we spend our days documenting our every move for social media and exposing ourselves to the “best moments” of the lives of all of our friends in our social network, we may end up feeling envious, hollow, or empty.  If social media is our obsession and most of it isn’t an accurate picture of reality, then what is the food we feed our minds on a regular basis?

Ash Wednesday is coming up, and I am not Catholic, but I love the idea of fasting at least once a year for forty days. I am planning to add some things to my life over the next forty days – ten to fifteen minute of stretching/yoga a day, reading more books for entertainment and writing more.

What do I plan to give up, though? I think about all the garbage that goes into my mind every day, and it is that trash that I would like to give up for my forty days of fasting. I am going to cut way back on my social media time and the time I spend reading articles that are not of value on the Internet.

I have a feeling by Easter my mind will be healthier and I will have lost some of the weight of negative news, gossip, and the unrealistic face people show to the world on social media.

As with every diet, it is going to be tough and take discipline, but I bet when it is over, I feel a whole lot better.

To Be Like Trees

31 Sunday Jan 2016

Posted by in Uncategorized, writing

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I read this article a couple of days ago  and it led my husband and me to have a conversation about Americans and spirituality.

The trees have social networks. The trees take care of a sick neighbor by feeding them sugar water and can keep them alive for decades.

If the trees are social beings and care for one another, it seems like these things would be at the core of our being, too. I think greed and selfishness are the difference, though. People put money before human beings – profits before people. We also see human beings ask questions like, “What is in it for me?” Of course, there are also people who deliberately injure or kill other people.

How is it that the trees are more loving and noble than many people?

The other day my husband and I went to see a retirement planner and she was talking about the stock market. She said, “The stock market isn’t reacting to the economy right now. We know the economy will grow as long as people spend money.”

We are taught to spend money. We are taught to want and buy and buy and buy. This behavior doesn’t consider the resources that go into the products we buy like wood, water, gas, copper, steel, and human lives. Many people don’t consider what they eat – the fact that they are nourishing their bodies with cows, pigs, chickens or the milk or eggs of these animals.

There is a disconnect between people and the natural environment and other living things. I think when we are so cut off from the things that sustain our lives we become sick in our spirit, and that sickness is apparent in the way we treat the planet and other human beings.

Very few of us still hunt and fish or farm our food, so we don’t have a relationship to the things that keep us alive. We don’t often think of trees helping us to breathe. Some of the same things that separate us from plants and animals also separate us from other people – the convenience of modern living- cars, computers, refrigeration, heat, air conditioning, grocery stores, and shopping malls. We don’t think that our lives are dependent on others, but they are, we just don’t see the people who we need. We don’t see the farmers in the fields, or the people overseeing the washing of fruit in factories, or the truckers bringing food to the market, and on and on.

Today, I am in awe of the tree. There are so many lessons they have to teach us, and I hope we learn them soon because using them as an example would ease so much suffering.  Who knew that along with giving us oxygen, trees could teach us how to live and care for each other when planted side by side? Trees make excellent neighbors, but do we?

When Gratitude Lists Fall Short

21 Thursday Jan 2016

Posted by in Uncategorized, writing

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I have started a gratitude lists/journal many times so this article in the New York Times was a wake-up call to me that the typical forms of expressing gratitude are in fact self-centered.

The article title is, The Selfish Side of Gratitude, and it is worth a read to shake all of us up and out of some of our complacency and self-indulgence.

The article addresses the very popular notion of “an attitude of gratitude” and how proponents of positive thinking suggest that nourishing that attitude translates into increased happiness, better health, and overall wellbeing. The author points out that much of what we do to express gratitude does not require interactions with other people and is selfishness. An example of that selfishness is creating a gratitude journal and writing down things like being grateful for having a roof over your head and food on the table.

It is great to be thankful for having food on the table, but this type of gratitude doesn’t recognize all the people (the community) involved in putting food on our tables – farmers, laborers, truckers, and many others. The author suggests that instead of gratitude we should instead practice “solidarity” and try to get people a better working environment or conditions and higher wages – as a way of truly expressing gratitude that does much more than making a list.

I’m not going to throw out the idea of a gratitude journal or list. I like putting gratitude in the forefront of my thoughts every day, but the premise of the article is great to consider. I see how keeping a list does something to elevate my mood, but it doesn’t do anything for anyone else. A list may make me feel good, but it doesn’t make the world a better place.

As a writer, working alone in my living room most days of the week, it is important for me to do things for other people. It is important for me to get out of my thoughts and my world from time to time. Writing is a solitary experience and although I can write articles and essays that address inequality, marginalization, injustice, etc. it isn’t the same as talking to people, thanking them and finding out what it is that would make their life better.

And even if it turns out that there is little I can do to make someone’s life better, I can be kind to the people behind the counter at the grocery store. I can be kind to the baristas at the coffee shop. I can be kind to the mailperson, and the garbage collectors. I can wish them a good day, and maybe even ask them their name. I can keep my eyes and ears open for ways to make their lives better because their work makes my life better and being willing to act on that is true gratitude – a kind of thanksgiving- giving something to those who make our lives easier and more comfortable. It takes a community to create a working society, and every member’s contribution is valuable. Maybe keeping a list can be the beginning of not taking anyone for granted.

 

Taking Care Of Our Health (Mind And Body)

27 Sunday Dec 2015

Posted by in mental illness, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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My arch collapsed on my left foot about a year ago. I went to the doctor, and he recommended physical therapy and exercises to strengthen the foot, and surrounding muscles. I never went to the physical therapy and I never did the exercises. My back has started to really bother me, so yesterday I started doing the stretches. My back hurt so much last night that I had difficulty sleeping. I did a few stretches again this morning.

There is so much about our health that is our own responsibility: exercise, stretching, taking medications, eating right, etc. all of those things are in our control. Some people are very good at taking their health into their own hands and improving on an illness that was outside of their control to begin with.

I need to take care of my body in the same way I have learned over the years to take care of my mind. I take my medications every day. I try to avoid stress. I am careful to get at least eight hours of sleep. I spend a good deal of time alone in order to calm down and find peace. Now, it is time to use the same principals for my body as I do for my mind.

Stretching and regular exercise are going to be like my medication – they are not options, they are necessary.

It took me several years of repeated episodes of psychosis to get on my medication and stay on my medication. I must be a slow learner because it has taken me a year to take the recommendations of the doctor about my foot.

I hope none of you are as slow to learn as I am. In the case of schizophrenia, medication has given me the ability to accomplish so many things and live a relatively normal life. In the case of my foot – I am hoping stretches and exercise will make this pain go away. These lessons have been hard learned.

Just like it takes time to get regulated on medication, it is going to take time to see if these stretches and exercises ease the pain in my back. Of course now I wish I could hurry the process, one I probably could have avoided if I had taken my doctor seriously.

Language: Building Walls Or Building Bridges

02 Monday Nov 2015

Posted by in travel, writing

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My husband and I were driving back from Flagstaff Arizona yesterday where I attended a four day writing conference. In Yuma we stopped at a Love’s gas station. A young man with a yellow shirt, braces, glasses, and a big smile held the door open for us. Both my husband and I thanked him, and asked him how he was doing. “Great! It is a nice day today.”

My husband and I headed off to the restroom, and then met up at the coffee station. They didn’t have any liquid creamer that wasn’t flavored so I chose Almond Joy for my coffee. I don’t normally like flavored coffee, but we were on the road and being on the road requires many things outside of my norm or routine.

When we went to the cash register to pay, the young man that held the door for us started to ring us up. “Are you having a nice day? He asked.

“We have been driving all day.” I said.

“Where did you come from?” He asked.

“We came from Sedona and Flagstaff.” I said.

“I want to go to Sedona. That is on my list.”

“It is so beautiful with the red rocks all jetting up to the sky. There is a church there, called Church of the Holy Cross that you have to visit if you go.” I said.

“Is the church in the rocks?” He asked.

“Yes, it is. You can see the whole canyon from the altar. Behind the altar is one big window looking out. The architect was a student of Frank Lloyd Wright’s.” I said.

“I can’t wait to go.” He said.

We said our good-byes and as we were walking to the car my husband said, “He may not know who Frank Lloyd Wright is. Not everyone knows or cares about the history of architecture.” My husband said.

I immediately regretted the reference to Wright. While trying to build a connection with that young man I had severed the tie by parading my knowledge of architecture. If he didn’t know who Wright was I had built a wall instead of a bridge. I had put myself above him. I had shown my education and experience. In essence I had waved a card of privilege – a privilege to care about art and architecture, traveling, etc. Sedona is only a few hours from where he works and he has never been there.

I should have known better. The same thing happens to me when I am reading many writers, and they will make a reference to a Greek God, a philosopher, or a long dead writer and I will be lost by the reference. The writer will have put distance between themselves and me – they will have upped me in education and their knowledge of culture or history. I know with Google I can easily look any reference up, but the negative feeling it generates, the space it creates between me and the piece of writing, I often don’t care to look it up. I often give up on the piece and say, “This is over my head. This is too academic. This wasn’t written for me.”

I know how it feels to have someone else’s privilege (college, graduate school, possibly a PhD), or even world travels – references to places, or food, or art, or architecture – all of these things made reference to without an explanation making it seem like, “Of course, everyone knows this!”

I don’t want to push people away I want to find ways to bring them closer. I want to hear their stories and to possibly tell mine. I want to hear their hopes and dreams or be a witness to their heartbreak and pain. I want to speak simply, not because people can’t understand, but because many people haven’t had the opportunities that some of us have been lucky enough to have. That doesn’t make a person dumb, or uneducated. It may mean they have had to focus on a going to work from a very young age, or taking care of a sick parent, or maybe they know all the words to every Star Wars movie.

Who is to say what knowledge is anyway?

If we really want to reach people we have to think about our audience. Maybe some of the writers I read aren’t writing for me, maybe they are writing for people just like them, but that isn’t true of me. I want to be accessible to everyone. It’s more important to me to build a connection than to show you where I’ve been, what I have studied, the culture and history that I know.

Let’s get down to the real stuff that makes up life – let’s build a bond so I can find out what makes you cry or what makes your heart beat faster. That’s where living is, not in a reference to a dead architect.

A Day With Schizophrenia

25 Monday May 2015

Posted by in mental illness, schizophrenia, writing

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I love a good deal. I shop at thrift stores, love sweepstakes, raffles, and anything free. I wait in lines at conferences and fairs to get free pens, hats, canvas bags, and writing tablets.

Yesterday, we went to Costco. It was a weekend day, so they had samples located throughout the store. When I am at Costco my desire for something free, and my disgust at the way people behave, come smashing together. Some people at Costco act like the free samples are the last meal they are going to have, they push ahead, they grab, and they leave their cart in the middle of the aisle so no one can get around them.

I love to get the free samples, but I refuse to act like a jerk in order to get them.

We were walking to the bread aisle, I saw a woman in a hairnet, and I knew she had samples of something from the bakery department. There was no line. There were a few squares of what she was serving left. I walked forward, and popped a small piece of buttered bread in my mouth.

With my issues around food, it is surprising that I am not extremely thin. I have so many things that get in the way of eating, most of which are paranoid thoughts, that it is a wonder I eat at all. I do eat though, my doctor says I am at a healthy weight, and I think I am at least fifteen pounds too heavy.

As soon as I chewed and swallowed the bread, I regretted it. If I could have thrown it up in the middle of Costco I would have. I tried to control the thoughts that flooded over me. I was in the aisle with all the blankets when my head started to spin a little bit.

I couldn’t find my husband. I saw his black hair and red shirt a few aisles away, and I walked towards him. “I shouldn’t have eaten the bread. I am so f***** paranoid right now.”  I rubbed my hands across my face which is a habit or something genetic, because my dad does the same thing when he is thinking, or uncomfortable.

My husband, in his always supportive manner, started asking me rational questions. I answered.

My love of getting something free, and my paranoia came head to head in Costco. I’m going to have to miss out on something free when we go shopping at Costco. I won’t be sampling the food in the future, but at least I don’t have to worry about being a jerk just to get a small taste of bread or cheese.

Schizophrenia, the Paranoid Kind

14 Tuesday Apr 2015

Posted by in mental illness, relationships, schizophrenia

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I have paranoid schizophrenia. That first word is a big one. Paranoid.

When I was working as a social worker, and a marketing consultant, I made choices about my paranoia in order to make me more comfortable and give me the feeling of safety every day. I imagine people, if they noticed, probably thought I was a little eccentric, but there are many things I have to do on a daily basis in order to manage my symptoms.

At the office, I would keep my food with me all the time. I would pack a lunch that I knew didn’t have to be refrigerated for at least four hours. I kept my food in a backpack or in my office drawer. Even though every place I have worked has had a community refrigerator, I wasn’t able to make use of it. I can’t leave my food out, or exposed to other people or I won’t eat it.  I can’t overcome that symptom. I have to work around it.

In fact food, flavors, smells, etc. are a big part of my daily symptoms. Having symptoms around food in the United States is easy to hide though, because we are such a food obsessed nation. We have every kind of diet imaginable from the all protein diet, to the gluten free diet, to the liquid diet, and we have every type of cooking show from country cooking, to Indian cooking, to Mexican cooking, to vegan cooking. There is probably little we haven’t covered when it comes to food.  So, having symptoms around food doesn’t really make me stand out.  The majority of people wouldn’t even notice, because half of the country has some type of food restriction or issue.

I don’t suffer from symptoms of conspiracy theories, and I’m thankful for that, because that is a very obvious indicator of paranoid schizophrenia, and although I am now completely out of the closet, I don’t like to broadcast my illness other than to write about it. I like to fit in. I like to be treated like everyone else. I don’t like to stand out in a crowd. I want to be equal, not separate or different. (If you happen to suffer from symptoms of conspiracy theories, I am not putting you down here. You may write or create beautiful art work around those theories and that may be lovely for you.  For me, it would be hard to deal with, but I understand my symptoms and ways of managing them may be hard for you. I get it. I’m on your team.)

I also suffer from a great deal of anxiety, and I think that stems from the big word, paranoia. I frequently ask my husband if things are going to be okay. We can also be going somewhere and I will ask him, “This is supposed to be fun, right?”  And he will assure me that it is supposed to be fun. I don’t always know the proper response or feelings to have about everyday things. For instance, I need lots of reassurance to go to the dentist, but again, this is easy to hide, because many people have fears of going to the dentist although I doubt most of them think they are going to die there.

I think I am going to die most days from something or another. I think about dying a lot.  I frequently tell my husband what I want after I die.  I want him to marry again. I want him to find joy, love, and laughter. I want him to be happy. I want him to have an amazing retirement where he gets to travel to all the countries I was too afraid to visit.  I want him to go on, but not just go on I want him to experience all the things that he missed, because of that one big word. Paranoia.