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Mental Health Monday – Time

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I’ve mentioned before my writing planner – the calendar where I schedule topics to write about. Some just happen, and others reflect items on the calendar. For instance, I’m working on something for All Saints Day as well as my two writing classes (with prompts), although I’m not sure that those will be going off this year. We’ll know soon enough.

Friday was the birthday of children’s writer and illustrator, Tomie dePaola and I had planned a reflection on his work as well as a personal connection.

Friday was also the first night of Rosh Hashanah.

As I was getting ready for Rosh Hashanah, Tomie dePaola was still on my radar. After each mundane task, I would think to myself (or even say aloud) that I needed to write and post the Tomie dePaola piece. I shouldn’t say “need;” I wanted to.

I took my son to work, I got groceries, I picked my daughter up from school, I started dinner, I picked my son up from work, I continued with dinner: roast chicken with sweet potatoes if anyone was wondering.

And as it drifted towards sundown, I knew that I was going to miss Tomie dePaola’s birthday.

I just couldn’t make the time stop. Dinner was nearly ready, my oldest was coming over for dinner, and I still had to clean off the table and vase the flowers.

I could have gotten frustrated.

I could have gotten angry (at a whole host of things).

I could have assigned more tasks to my family, who had also worked all day, stepped aside, and wrote what I wanted to, shared the photos that I wanted to, and it would have been done.

However, it wouldn’t have been done right.

It wouldn’t have been done with the reverence that Mr. dePaola deserves.

I let the time pass, and I decided to be okay with that.

I spent the holiday with my family, reading, sitting prayerfully with G-d, and knew that tomorrow is another day, and I can celebrate Tomie dePaola tomorrow.

Which is my plan.

Stay tuned.

Mental Health Monday – September 11th

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Today is one of those days that needs some extra quiet.

I drove my son to work, and then sat in the car for over 30 minutes, discussing what I wanted to eat for breakfast with myself. Having not really decided, I just sat there. I knew what day it was, but it hadn’t imprinted on my mind yet. When it did, I at least understood my unexplainable melancholy.

In the interim between 2001 and today, I have met and befriended a few people who were there, in lower Manhattan when the World Trade Center fell, who were in one of the buildings when it was hit. We’ve heard stories of friends with near misses, where fate – or providence – kept them from being there that day, and others who found their way home, ghost-like.

I have pangs of guilt, feeling the strong feelings of Nine-Eleven when I wasn’t physically there, but in the ensuing years, I have come to accept and be at one with my own trauma. No, I wasn’t in attendance, but I had been affected more than a previous tourist, visiting once or twice. This was my home. Both of my parents were from the Bronx. I was born in the Bronx and grew up in Queens and on Long Island. At the time of the attacks, we had just returned from visiting my parents and my mother-in-law the day before, crossing the Throgs Neck Bridge, pointing out the New York City skyline to our four-year-old son. We viewed that sight not twenty-four hours before, the same perfect blue sky guiding our way north.

I resent out of state politicians using 9/11 as their fundraising, their inspo-porn, trauma-porn, and call to arms that they have no right to.

For more than a year after, when I traveled on our local highway to the state capital, I would shudder at the sight of a plane flying overhead, sinking lower and lower in the sky as it descended to the airport runway that I was passing. Our house is in the flight path of two small, local airports, and every time a plane flew low, I would have a visceral reaction. I felt that these reactions and feelings were not mine to have – I wasn’t there!

But in a way, I was.

This was my home. These were my people.

And I’ve decided to own my pain and my trauma of that day.

That’s my mental health Monday suggestion this week: don’t let others tell you how to feel. Only you know how you feel, and you should let yourself feel the things. It’s possible that the feelings can be too much, but if that’s the case, seek out a professional. Talking to someone who is a professional can do wonders for your mental health, not only today, but any day.

Have a peaceful, blessed, quiet, tea-filled day.

❤

Friday Food. Samosa.

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We were staying in a small town outside of Belfast, in Northern Ireland. This was in 2017. It was our last night, and our cousins, who were hosting us had to tend to an emergency in Donegal, and so we were left to our own devices after their taking care of us so diligently, including feeding our brood of five. My husband had been adhering to a policy (and continues to do so) that he termed TSN – try something new – and with this in mind, we discovered a restaurant in town with Istanbul in the name, and chose a sampler of different fried foods that arrived in a pizza box. It was similar to a combo appetizer you would order at a restaurant.

This was my first time having a samosa. It is triangular, but not flat; three-dimensional, but not a pyramid. It is filled with, I didn’t know what then, but it was delicious. I have come to learn that they are usually filled with potatoes, peas, and spices.

My next taste of a samosa was at an interfaith Iftar I was invited to. Again, very delicious.

I’ve had various types of samosa, including a Thai version, which is yummy, although it has a softer outside.

While we were recently on vacation in Canada, we discovered and rediscovered a whole world of Indian, and southeast Asian foods, including butter chicken, naan, momo, as well as samosas. What I hadn’t expected was to see a sign in a mall food court (Pita Lite) in St. Catherine’s that offered samosas for $1.75 each. It came with a spicy tamarind sauce. (I did try it, but it was too spicy for me.)

I was so excited that I dug deep into my change purse for the exact amount, and sat at a table, waiting both for my family and to let this piping hot snack cool a bit. It didn’t matter – I still burned my tongue a little. And to be honest, it was well worth it.

When we returned to the States, and visited our local mall, I was not surprised but still disappointed to see that a simple samosa snack had not come here while we were away enjoying it. Perhaps, one day, but I can still savor the memory.

(c)2023

Inspire. September.

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Sometimes an inspiration takes on many forms and has many hands to form it.

The pictures below are a couple of my visit (pilgrimage, I suppose it could be called) to the Canadian National Shrine of St. Kateri Tekakwitha. I had been trying to visit here for several years. I was hampered from visiting due to their pandemic closure, and then I thought I wouldn’t be able to again this year because their opening hours did not coincide with our vacation plans.

My husband rectified that by suggesting our return a couple of weeks after our vacation to visit the shrine. And so, I was able to fulfill my desire to see the final resting place of St. Kateri Tekakwitha. This was my final stop in seeking out Kateri’s footsteps, and it was a beautiful experience that I will share in time.

In the meantime, enjoy these photos that do not do the site justice:

St. Francis Xavier Mission Church.
Kahnawake, Quebec, Canada.
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The Altar.
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Looking from the altar to the entrance of the church.
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Tomb of St. Kateri Tekakwitha that holds her relics.
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Mental Health Monday – One Thing

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I’m not sure about you, but this week, or partial week, set between the end of vacation and the beginning of school is always a tough one for me. This year is especially bittersweet as it is my daughter’s senior year of high school; the little one; the baby. Our vacation days were all messed up this year, coming earlier in the month than usual due to a commitment I made, the college school schedule, and the closing days of a shrine that I wanted to visit (see tomorrow’s Inspire post for more on this).

As I mentioned on Friday, September is Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. It can be a burden to our mental health to constantly be reminded that we are not alone, we are enough, if in crisis, call 988. For some, it truly is a reminder of our worth and a valuable resource. For others, on the lower spectrum of suicidal thoughts, it can come across as trite, another checklist to get through to be called an ally.

You never know who you’re reaching, and so we keep reaching out. I hope the readers will take it with the compassion and empathy in which it is offered.

For today’s Mental Health Monday, find one thing.

Just one thing.

It can be something that makes you think; something that makes you feel; makes you laugh.

It can be as simple as a fortune cookie fortune that you’ve been carrying around in your pocket or in the cup holder of your car.

It can be a business card sized card with a mantra on it or a smiley face.

It can be a flower petal or a leaf that drifted in your open window.

Whatever it is, give this one thing a little time; focus on it in a mind-wandering way.

Journal, doodle, listen to music along with this one thing. Or do nothing at all.

There is no wrong way to do your one thing this week.

Mental Health Monday – Course Correction

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In trying to find a sub-title for this post, I looked back at my previous posts that related to what’s been going on, and I was kind of pleased to discover that the last time I felt like I’d had a setback was in 2019, in the fall. I know I’ve had moments that go up and down, but this was decidedly different.

I try to be open and talk openly about my struggles and my successes. We all have mental health, and we all must get through any of its manifestations, good, bad, or neutral just like we do when we twist an ankle or get a paper cut.

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Unofficial NotGISH Scavenger Hunt Begins NOW!

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Twice daily, items will appear on site.

Official rules will be posted this afternoon, but no worries, this is for fun. No judging, no judgment. Just do it.

For anyone familiar with my yearly scavenger hunt traditionally run by actor and activist, Misha Collins, there is always a mascot, a hybrid of two animals creating a new one. I don’t have that kind of energy. The mascot for my last hunt was a beeline – a bumblebee/ cat hybrid.

Our first item is to create your own mascot for this week. Design them, draw them, photoshop them, name them. My first draft is below the cut. I’ll be back this afternoon with a new post containing the day’s second item.

Good luck and most important, have fun!

Item 1
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Friday Food. Fried Apples.

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On occasion, I will flash back to my childhood, and hear something that I haven’t heard or thought of in forever. One of these childhood phrases was “porkchops with applesauce.” I’m sure this is from The Brady Bunch, although I don’t recall if it was Greg or Peter who said it.

Applesauce was a favorite in our house. In fact, I’m sure we ate pork chops with applesauce. We also ate roast beef with applesauce. Nowadays, I usually make it with gravy, but recently, since my daughter doesn’t like beef gravy, I offered her applesauce. This is a roundabout way of inviting you into my thought process for a dinner I made this week that came together when I was visiting Cracker Barrel restaurant. They have fried apples on their menu, and they also sell them in cans with the recipe on the back. I bought one can to go with the on-sale center cut pork that I bought this week, and we had a lovely (even if we used way too much butter than is healthy) meal.

The fried apples recipe calls for two tablespoons of butter; I think I used twice that? I used half a stick. Melt the butter, add the entire can, sprinkle cinnamon, mix, heat, simmer.

After searing the pork on both sides, and adding a bit of adobo seasoning, I poured a helping of the fried apples on top of the pork, added a side of mixed vegetables, and buttered egg noodles, and voila, yummy dinner in no time. It was about half an hour, but that’s not long at all. No leftovers.

(c)2023

July. Inspire.

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“If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.”

Marcus Tullius Cicero

My view on July is that it’s too hot. It’s barely the first week, and it is already too hot. When will fall be here? However, we still need to get through July (and the rest of the months) as we do all the other days. Be in the present. At least, try to be. The photos I’ve shared on bright, colorful, and motivating. Especially the books. The books are my intentions for July: spiritual journaling (and other writing), continuing to read the daily Scriptures in the voice of the Indigenous Peoples of this land (Turtle Island), and participate in a four week personal retreat with the four female Doctors of the Church: Therese of Lisieux, Teresa of Avila, Catherine of Siena, Hildegard of Bingen. Each has a special meaning for me that I hope to share in the next four weeks as I go through the book.

What are your plans for July?

What inspired you this week?

What is making you determined?

My new spiritual journal. PS I found the lost one. 😦
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“Library”
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Lilacs.
“Garden”
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Flowers.
“Garden”
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Pineapple Star.
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