What’s in a title you may ask? Well, for starters, a picture of a successful batch of caramel.

As you read in my last blog, I had a job to get a hobby per my shrink. That statement is hilarious in itself as the whole point is to do a hobby, not a job. That being said, we are watching the Great British Baking Show and I kept looking up recipes that they were making. Add all those tags on my phone, and the fact that I love cooking (when I can let go of my to do list) and I decided to try baking.

I have done a few “bakes” and decided to tackle caramel this past weekend. I have watched enough bake offs to know that it can be tricky. My first fail was doing it in a dark pot, which did not allow me to see when it turned from clear to amber. Once I dug one of my other pots out, I had success, which all things considering, I was overjoyed. Actually, I was ticked pink. Then I promptly made a caramel apple crisp with said caramel, which was yummy.

I get it. I really do. This need to calm ones body. It is something I can do. Something I can control within my lack of control. Trauma takes your body, mind, and spirit on a ride, a roller coaster that can last the rest of your life. So much of that is not within your control, which is why if you have known someone who has gone through a traumatic event, they often act “weird.” Now, weird can look different for everyone, I can only speak for myself, though, talking to others, there are parallels. What does weird look like for me? Often, I am quite awkward, especially in new situations. This is mostly in personal vs work environments. Strangely, in work environments, I shine. It is a thing that “before” that I knew how to do, and do well. I had to start two acupuncture businesses from scratch, and did both successfully, which is no easy feat. I think my brain has a switch when in work mode, like, hey, this you know, this you can control. A party where I may only know one or two people? Yeah, that is rough. An anxiety starts to creep up, butterflies appear in my stomach, a catastrophic voice starts chiming in on all the things that could go wrong. I have also found that in group things that I do know people, I have been getting overwhelmed sadly. I am finding that I do much better in intimate environments. How else does weird show up? I have so many weird neurosis that never were before they died. I am not easy going, just ask any of my friends or loved ones when it comes to making plans, nailing down details, or planning things. I have to have a concrete timeline. That being said, this is one I continuously work on for the sake of others. I think about my death all the time. Before my heart surgery, I was quite convinced I was going to die, even reached out to a few people with instructions if I did. That is the mindset of if something will go wrong, it will. Granted, this is something I work on all the time with cognitive behavior therapy exercises. But, the immediate thought is there. I am tired all the time, and have weird health issues. Grieving is exhausting. Dealing with PTSD and anxiety is exhausting. Taking care of the ripple effects on my body are a full time job within itself. Even with all the care I do, I am seeing the effects of the stress hormones on my body sadly. I overthink everything. This one is anxiety. Man oh man, the conversations I replay in my head over and over. Did I say something wrong? Did they misinterpret what I said? “Let it go” is not in my repertoire. I am forgetful. I cannot tell you how many times I have started an email or text with – hey, sorry, I thought I responded to you, but I must have in my head vs real life. Sigh. I am constantly questioning my own sanity. It seems like once a week I am asking F, hey, this is a normal response to this particular situation, right? You question everything, mostly yourself.

I can go on with the weird quirks. One of the things I noticed when we moved, were the rare days where I could cook for most of the day. I got lost in it, it peaked my scientific brain, because a lot of cooking has to do with chemisty. When cooking, you focus on what is in front of you, else a finger may get chopped, so it is like a meditation. There is a calmness, a relaxation of my mind and body. Also, I have such fond memories of family and food. I remember my grandmother’s basement for the holidays and so much good Italian food. People were together, talking, laughing, and sharing stories. When my family/friends eat food I have taken time to cook, and it gives them joy, it gives me a joy.

After Jesse and Bella died, my world was upside down. That is putting it lightly. Joy was not in my vocabulary for a long long time, and when it did show up, it was momentary in passing. Then as time passed, I did in fact have more moments of joy, and learned to hold both the joy and grief, which is where it is at today. That being said, along the way, I have held dear those things that give me joy, and look forward to continuing to discover new ways to bring it. Until then, buy stock in butter, sugar, and flour!