Kevin's Watch

Hahaha. Nobody deserves anything. Shit just happens.

--A

Happiness isn't deserved. It's not earned. It's accepted or rejected. (Is that a bumper sticker? )

You know, I've recently realized I have the strangest habit when I am in the throws of a slide. I buy groceries. Lots and lots and lots of groceries. Not bad things, good quality stuff. Lots of veggies and exotic food. Not junk. I pack the fridge till overflowing. Yesterday I bought mushrooms and chorizo, coconut yogurt and passion fruit, homemade mozzarella and smoked salmon.

And
then
I
let
it
rot.

There is a whole bunch of ways to interpret that, for sure. Very symbolic.

I guess it's better than the other ways I used to act out.

Coconut yogurt sounds delicious. I am allergic to coconut, but I still love it and have it sometimes anyway. What did you used to do before you did these non-dinner parties and why do you think you do this food thing now?

lorin wrote:And
then
I
let
it
rot.

I'm sorry; it sounds like the things you were choosing to buy were wonderful and nourishing.

I guess it's better than the other ways I used to act out.

I swear, sometimes self-control and self-discipline seems pointless, and I could almost laugh at myself at the ways I am like channeling enormous volumes of anger into what's metaphorically something like this:
carefully taking a hammer and chisel to myself and secretly trying to knock my own footing out from underneath me...

(because in some ways, my heart isn't any different than if I was someone constantly threatening and attacking people... so in a way I see myself as "no better off")
but really, I do think there is something (and something hopeful) to be said for self-discipline...

Ananda wrote:Coconut yogurt sounds delicious. I am allergic to coconut, but I still love it and have it sometimes anyway. What did you used to do before you did these non-dinner parties and why do you think you do this food thing now?

It's plain coconut yogurt, instead of plain dairy yogurt, not coconut flavored dairy yogurt. Kind of strange stuff if you ask me. Consistency is weird.

You may not have known me when I had a bunch of foster kids. I used to cook a great deal for them. Perhaps it is part of the empty nest syndrome but my guess is it is way deeper than that. The thing is for the most part I never cook the food, it just goes bad.

Linna Heartlistener wrote:

lorin wrote:And
then
I
let
it
rot.

it sounds like the things you were choosing to buy were wonderful and nourishing.

It really is good stuff. I don't act out by buying crap so there is more to it than just buying ice cream and chips and going into a diabetic coma.

It reminds me of something my mother used to tell me about her childhood, though not sure of the tie-in. When my mother was 8 my grandfather literally left one day to buy the paper and never came back. His absence was never mentioned and every night my grandmother set a place for him at dinner. For the next ten years my mother, my mothers spinster aunt and my grandmother would sit silently at dinner, eat at 6pm on the dot and never discuss the fact that my grandfather was not at dinner.

I swear, sometimes self-control and self-discipline seems pointless, and I could almost laugh at myself at the ways I am like channeling enormous volumes of anger into what's metaphorically something like this:
carefully taking a hammer and chisel to myself and secretly trying to knock my own footing out from underneath me...
(because in some ways, my heart isn't any different than if I was someone constantly threatening and attacking people... so in a way I see myself as "no better off") but really, I do think there is something (and something hopeful) to be said for self-discipline...

maybe my purchasing good food is my attempt at hanging on to the threads of that self discipline.

lorin wrote:It reminds me of something my mother used to tell me about her childhood, though not sure of the tie-in. When my mother was 8 my grandfather literally left one day to buy the paper and never came back. His absence was never mentioned and every night my grandmother set a place for him at dinner. For the next ten years my mother, my mothers spinster aunt and my grandmother would sit silently at dinner, eat at 6pm on the dot and never discuss the fact that my grandfather was not at dinner.

What a soul-crumbling ritual.

lorin wrote:

...but really, I do think there is something (and something hopeful) to be said for self-discipline...

maybe my purchasing good food is my attempt at hanging on to the threads of that self discipline.

Maybe!

I figure there's always the parts of our souls that are intending to take reasonable actions to seek our own good / take care of ourselves in ways that will be productive...

...and the parts of our souls that are trying to self-sabotage for various reasons.

...and I think that a lot of the time, they're both in play.

I have great hope that the habit you've got goin' in will find fulfillment.
You're an awesome cook (you say it without reservations and you sound like you know what you're talking about and so I believe you), and that's a wonderful talent.
Also, I can see how people who love to cook would just plain love purchasing and handling food.

Lorin, my husband would love you for calling chorizo healthy. He loves it and I will rarely buy it. Next time, just ring him and it wont go to waste.

Really that sounds like a rough time.

On the note of inviting someone to dinner, maybe forcing yourself to call some friends and invite them over for fine dining next time could be nice for you. The nice food gets cooked and you get to enjoy an evening. And no, I wasnt here in the times you mentioned. Must be hard having the house go quiet. My husbands mother has had a rough time with that type of thing. Her man died at the end of 2010 and she is very lonely.

QWe just passed the 666 mark, and nothing happened *phew*

It reminds me of something my mother used to tell me about her childhood, though not sure of the tie-in. When my mother was 8 my grandfather literally left one day to buy the paper and never came back. His absence was never mentioned and every night my grandmother set a place for him at dinner. For the next ten years my mother, my mothers spinster aunt and my grandmother would sit silently at dinner, eat at 6pm on the dot and never discuss the fact that my grandfather was not at dinner.

Shit. I have definitely heard stories of parents leaving or dying young and similar attitudes happening, but never something like 10 years of table setting.

Ooh, armchair psychology!

So lorin, how's this: when you're sliding downhill, you distract yourself with shiny things. In your case, that involves a trip to the exotic section of the grocery store. You know you need help/nourishment, so you reach for food. Plus there's the thrill of the hunt.

So you get the stuff home and reality hits -- you have no game plan for all the stuff you bought (i.e., it's not like you planned a menu ahead of time and shopped for the stuff you'd need) and you have no one to cook for but yourself (altho: why, pray tell, is it so bad to treat yourself to a great home-cooked meal?).

What about this: next time you get the urge to go to the grocery store and buy crazy foodstuffs, first sit down with a cookbook (or the intarwebz) and find some recipes. Then make a list of the stuff you will need to make those dishes. If you get that far and still need to acquire the shiny food, invite a couple of friends over for your feast. Or plan to treat yourself to this great meal: tablecloth, china, candlelight, the works. *Then* go shopping.

My point is that I think the grocery shopping is a distraction from the real issue. What I'm suggesting is that you substitute a different impulsive behavior that doesn't cost you money for the impulsive behavior of shopping. I mean, you can surf those internet recipe sites all day. And a stack of recipe printouts are not going to be the same kind of guilt trigger as a bursting fridge. (You can ignore stacks of paper -- I do it all the time! )

Am I close?

(Somebody ought to do this for me...except I think the resulting analysis would make me cranky. )

Confronting and stopping the coping mechanisms is the necessary action. Then you will be able to experience the underlying angst, and ultimately catharsis when you are not destroyed by it.

Perhaps catharsis is too strong a word. But there is usually a euphoria and a feeling of relief that comes with confronting and surviving your fears.

aliantha wrote:Ooh, armchair psychology!

So lorin, how's this: when you're sliding downhill, you distract yourself with shiny things. In your case, that involves a trip to the exotic section of the grocery store. You know you need help/nourishment, so you reach for food. Plus there's the thrill of the hunt.

So you get the stuff home and reality hits -- you have no game plan for all the stuff you bought (i.e., it's not like you planned a menu ahead of time and shopped for the stuff you'd need) and you have no one to cook for but yourself (altho: why, pray tell, is it so bad to treat yourself to a great home-cooked meal?).

What about this: next time you get the urge to go to the grocery store and buy crazy foodstuffs, first sit down with a cookbook (or the intarwebz) and find some recipes. Then make a list of the stuff you will need to make those dishes. If you get that far and still need to acquire the shiny food, invite a couple of friends over for your feast. Or plan to treat yourself to this great meal: tablecloth, china, candlelight, the works. *Then* go shopping.

My point is that I think the grocery shopping is a distraction from the real issue. What I'm suggesting is that you substitute a different impulsive behavior that doesn't cost you money for the impulsive behavior of shopping. I mean, you can surf those internet recipe sites all day. And a stack of recipe printouts are not going to be the same kind of guilt trigger as a bursting fridge. (You can ignore stacks of paper -- I do it all the time! )

Am I close?

(Somebody ought to do this for me...except I think the resulting analysis would make me cranky. )

You know what, Ali, I missed this post. I am so sorry. I think I need to do an email on this thread so I don't miss anything. I think your analysis is spot on. I also think that the one thing I a good at, that I get kudos for is my cooking. So I always think about cooking new things for new affirmations. But then I realize I have put myself in such a stat of isolation that there is no one to share it with. Ah well, such is life.

Been thinking about isolation these days. How did I get to the point where I am imposing isolation on myself and after tracing it back I think it started way back. Every year from year one my parents would pack us up and move, house to house, neighborhood to neighborhood, country to country. I was ALWAYS the new kid, always isolated. Once I became an adult I did the same thing, moved every year or so, always seeking something better. Just like my father. And when I would move it seems I selected and continue to select places that isolate me. I moved alone to Portugal not knowing Portuguese, to the middle of an all black and hispanic where I was perceived with distrust (always thinking I was a cop), I moved to south jersey where I spent most of my time commuting from work and never really met my neighbors. I moved to a tiny cottage on an acre of land sandwiched in between highways with no neighbors. So I continue my fathers patterns. I guess the question is why do I continue this pattern of self imposed isolation. And I think I actually have an answer. I am running from the challenge of establishing and maintaining relationships. It is a skill I never learned. The friends that I have had have always been questionable. Maybe I don't feel entitled to good sturdy relationships.

20 years of therapy and I figure this out sitting on my own couch with a cup of coffee.

lorin wrote:20 years of therapy and I figure this out sitting on my own couch with a cup of coffee.

Yes, and here's something that, if not exactly on-topic, isn't far from it: When I was at Mom's, week before last, my brother told me some family-of-origin stuff that, I realized a couple of days later, indicated that he'd been jealous of me. All the years he teased me, all the tears I shed for the abuse I took from him -- I've always assumed it was because he wished our sister had lived (which would have meant I'd never have been born). It never crossed my mind that he might have been jealous. It explains a whole bunch of stuff, tho. And now that I'm nearly 55, I feel like I've spent my whole life misjudging him.

I mean, he's still kind of an asshole. But I can see reasons for it now.

Habits are ruts in our lives, whether they are good ones or bad ones. Even destructive habits can be marginally comforting, whether developed by us, or enforced upon us by our families growing up. Because these patterns rhyme and resonate with our previous experiences, we continue them, even though we might full-well know (or reflect upon later, when thinking more clearly) that they are bad for us - unconscious defense mechanisms, compensating controls upon what otherwise feels uncontrollable. And we rely upon them, whether they work or not.

Having known several people who deal with depression, and/or bipolar disorder, I know to count my blessings with my experience of sleep as a 'magical reboot'.
For me, the simple act of sleeping leaves me feeling refreshed, re-energized, and willing to give it another go. So far, no problem has ever been so terrible that sleep could not make it more tolerable, and give me a needed dose of perspective. I wish I could teach this to others, because I know that often in the worst times of depression, sleep is one of those things that is either elusive (brain stuck in 'full-speed' position, spiraling inward and down), or it is felt as a temporary retreat from those deep-grooved dark thoughts, if even that much respite.

dw

DukkhaWaynhim wrote:Habits are ruts in our lives, whether they are good ones or bad ones. Even destructive habits can be marginally comforting, whether developed by us, or enforced upon us by our families growing up. Because these patterns rhyme and resonate with our previous experiences, we continue them, even though we might full-well know (or reflect upon later, when thinking more clearly) that they are bad for us - unconscious defense mechanisms, compensating controls upon what otherwise feels uncontrollable. And we rely upon them, whether they work or not.

Having known several people who deal with depression, and/or bipolar disorder, I know to count my blessings with my experience of sleep as a 'magical reboot'.
For me, the simple act of sleeping leaves me feeling refreshed, re-energized, and willing to give it another go. So far, no problem has ever been so terrible that sleep could not make it more tolerable, and give me a needed dose of perspective. I wish I could teach this to others, because I know that often in the worst times of depression, sleep is one of those things that is either elusive (brain stuck in 'full-speed' position, spiraling inward and down), or it is felt as a temporary retreat from those deep-grooved dark thoughts, if even that much respite.

dw

dw, if you could teach me that I would be a happy woman for sure. My sleep is always troubled and nothing I look forward to. Memories and the "should've could'ves" take hold.

Yes, and here's something that, if not exactly on-topic, isn't far from it: When I was at Mom's, week before last, my brother told me some family-of-origin stuff that, I realized a couple of days later, indicated that he'd been jealous of me. All the years he teased me, all the tears I shed for the abuse I took from him -- I've always assumed it was because he wished our sister had lived (which would have meant I'd never have been born). It never crossed my mind that he might have been jealous. It explains a whole bunch of stuff, tho. And now that I'm nearly 55, I feel like I've spent my whole life misjudging him.

My brothers suffer from that. At least the older of the two suffers from it but will deny it till the day he dies. The younger one is very wealthy and successful (at least he married successfully.) And the older one resents it. He is damaged like I am from the constant moving and emotional turmoil growing up. The younger one is less damaged, as the overt drama had pretty well played itself out by the time he was born. And....he had me. I was his mother as the real one had withdrawn into her own world. I have no jealousy for either of them. Live long and prosper.


I was reading over the post above and had to laugh at myself. Here I am talking about my always moving to places where I am isolated and poof, the ticker says it all. I am doing it again. I am a piece of work.

I discovered a great way to fall asleep quite accidentally. In highschool, I had to memorize Shakespeare sonnets. When I was trying to go to sleep at night, I'd see how much I could remember. Strangely, I started falling asleep quickly. I even remembered the line, and sometimes word!, I fell asleep on! It seems that concentrating on that one thing so much chased away any other crap I might otherwise have had bouncing around my head. (I also found that I remembered the sonnets much better the next day.)

Years later, I started memorizing the Tao Te Ching. I recite it silently most nights, and fall asleep after just a couple verses. And nearly always remember where I was when I fell asleep. (I don't have the whole thing memorized. Used to have about a quarter of it, but I'd have to brush up on half of that at this point.)

The important thing is to TRY to stay awake and recite it. When my mind wanders, I concentrate. If I notice myself sorta falling partly asleep, I force myself back to reciting. Bizarre, but it works so well!

I definitely have my own version of an "isolation thing" going on.
When I fail in some way that "seems big to me," I basically feel as though I don't have permission to leave the house except for something like work.

lorin wrote:I was reading over the post above and had to laugh at myself. Here I am talking about my always moving to places where I am isolated and poof, the ticker says it all. I am doing it again. I am a piece of work.

Isn't it wacky the way we humans go around thinking we know why we're doing the things we do?
...and then we realize "Hey, maybe I'm doing that for a different reason."

What I had wanted to do about now was congratulate you now that the first number on that ticker is down to "2."

dw wrote:Having known several people who deal with depression, and/or bipolar disorder, I know to count my blessings with my experience of sleep as a 'magical reboot'.

Once when I was it my counselor's office, there was some random magazine lying around, and one of the articles on the cover was "Top tip to fight depression," or some such.
Needless to say, it was timely and I was eager to read it.
The tip was to get plenty of sleep.
The theme of "sleep being a big deal" has come home to me again and again from a lot of different angles lately...

Linna Heartlistener wrote:What I had wanted to do about now was congratulate you now that the first number on that ticker is down to "2."

You noticed that! Isn't that great!?

The tip was to get plenty of sleep.
The theme of "sleep being a big deal" has come home to me again and again from a lot of different angles lately...

I always thought sleeping a lot is a sign of depression, not a cure. I have been needing a lot of sleep recently. The problem for me is it isn't natural sleep. Because a some health issues I take medication that makes me sleepy. And drugged sleep is never fitful.

Isn't it wacky the way we humans go around thinking we know why we're doing the things we do?
...and then we realize "Hey, maybe I'm doing that for a different reason."

"If you keep on doing what you've always done, you'll keep on getting what you've always got."

-- W. L. Bateman

I think we should start a "Favorite Quotes" thread.

So that much closer to your next escape? The type of escape you were just bemoaning?

--A

Avatar wrote:So that much closer to your next escape? The type of escape you were just bemoaning?

--A

Exactly what I was laughing about. Keeping doing what you've always done..............................