Lately

I stopped posting on fb about what meals I was preparing most every night after the ugly "quinoa meatball class" incident. See, I still get very angry and anxious when thoughts about the incident's perpetrator come out of the depth. 

By elimination, I then assumed that if I stopped posting about the meals no one else would ask me to teach anyone else how to make my strange concoctions. But the thing is, that I ENJOY posting about my meals, and if by doing so others have been inspired to either do a meatless day of their week, or eat more "weird" foods,  that makes me smile a little. 

So here are meals we've tried lately:

Eggplants with potatoes in pita pockets. The potatoes were awesome. The eggplants are not my husband's favorite but he still ate a lot of this :)

Black eyed peas with greens over couscous. I tried this recipe Black-Eyed Peas With Collard Greens - The New York Times and served over couscous. 

Basmati rice and Chickpea and spinach stew. I used this recipe Chickpea and Spinach Curry and served over basmati rice. 

Penne rigate with sweet corn, zucchini, mushrooms and onions. I used my head to figure this one out :) I seasoned with oregano, sea salt and pepper.

When the baby was sick I made it a point to mix cut up peaches with fresh raspberries and drizzle with honey, since raspberries help the lungs recover. We all loved this simple dessert. 

Unfortunately, these dished have not been favorites in our house, but I'm glad we tried them. I did love the black eyed peas and I might serve them over rice when I make it again.

Turning two was so easy. Three is showing its ugly face.

Little P will be three years old in less than eight weeks. I want to think we're ready, as so many exciting things are happening in her world. She is such a lovely smart, funny and caring precious little person. So much of me and so much of dad in her has begun to show through, and at times it is like we truly put mom and dad's qualities in a blender and this mix of personality is in front of us-and it can be frustrating and scary when it's the "negative" kind.
Two has been so much fun, full of tender and marvelous moments, of discoveries and beauty. So much growth at leaps and bounds.
Three is starting to sound exhausting, but fun; marked by the quintessential fight for freedom but wanting to remain our baby, accompanied by growing horrible temper tantrums, stubbornness bordering on OCD, with our wonderful child who used to eat everything we offered her is now so picky. The child who loved babies and animals is always fighting or bossing her sister around and bothering the 15 year old elderly cat. The child who had a solid nap schedule until she was 2 years old now rarely will go for an afternoon nap and is so cranky and exhausted at the end of the day that she drives herself and all around her absolutely bonkers and patience is so flimsy we can see it vanish.
So full of opinions, wonderful stories and love for books and yoga.
What a challenging time is coming upon us. I am so nervous and amazed at the same time. My daughter is a wonderful teacher and mirror. Her presence in my life makes my thoughts flourish and suddenly very old, deep memories come back to me as if I were there, a little me, living those moments again, smelling or touching toys, food, pets, hugging my mother, chasing my brother, playing with cousins, playing games, singing songs, wearing little me outfits, eating steamed veggies or ham sandwiches...
Glad to be back here,  writing. Enjoy.

On being a mother and other things

My mom and I ca. 1985

I'm intrigued about whether my mom shaped me to be a successful, forgiving individual and whether I became more depressed, resentful, and bitter after I stopped having constant contact with her.
See, I was always with her when I was a little girl, she protected me, and nurtured me and only as an adult have I come to understand how much hurt and chaos and pain she had in her life with my father, but as far as I'm concerned, even as I grew up and became a young adult I was always her child and she has never ever abandoned me.
She says I talked at about 9 months, I can believe that; she has always told me so many stories of when I was a baby or a toddler, of things I can't remember and they are so sweet. I can hear myself talk to my baby daughter like my mom probably talked to me. But I'm probably not as good as my mom was, and this saddens me.  I am afraid that although I've developed a strong bond with my baby daughter, it is probably tainted (I was reading Attachment and Adult Relationships: How the Attachment Bond Shapes Adult Relationships) because I've been depressed, impatient, tired, frustrated, and honestly quite resentful and bitter because of our old house and monetary problems.
I don't think my mom suffered from depression until I was maybe a little older, and if she has had bouts with it, they have totally been circumstantial and temporay. My mom is an optimist, a joy to all her friends and her grandchildren have enjoyed her (until they turn into teenagers and forget about her) because she is so loving and funny to them.
I miss her so much. She's in central Mexico, about 1200 miles away or two flights away, or a three day drive away. And one of the hardest things for me about now raising little P is not having my mom close by, so they can enjoy each other and I can cherish my mom's company.
Last year she came to be with me a few weeks before my baby was born and stayed a few months after and I can't remember having such an amazing time with her before then. We would go for walks every evening with my huge belly and slow pace and she would help me in the vegetable garden, then after baby was born we would take her with us for our walks when she wasn't napping, but every time I strolled along with my mom, I swear I almost peed my pants  because she would tell me the funniest things. This summer I have had some really hard days, I stopped taking the zoloft in late May, after I found out we're expecting our second child. But even while I was taking the medication, when I take baby in her stroller on "grandma's walking route" a bittersweet stream of feelings overcomes my heart and I wish she were there with me.

I just wish I will be as good a mom as she is, she does have some flaws, can be dictatorial and critical and is probably a bit helicopterish, at least she was, when I was growing up, but I guess I didn't turn to be a criminal or a worse off woman because of her. My father's alcoholism and emotional abuse has probably more to do with my ailments, but that's for another post. My mom tried to shelter me, but as we all know the codependent spouse can only shelter so much. Her path has been so interesting, I could talk for hours about her life, because she talked for hours about it with me. It would annoy the crap out of me at the time, but I know better now.

I see my husband and I know his parents were so different than mine, his birth order is different than mine, his sociocultural environment when growing up way different than mine, and you can see he's a very resiliant individual but I'm afraid that the cornerstone of his insecurities, emotional disconnect, feeling stuffing, and inability to pursue real success and make of himself someone greater than he ever imagined lies on the attachment, or lack of, with his mother.
All he has ever achieved he has achieved on his own, without anyone on his cheering squad, only after he's done something has he recieved some congratulatory comment, if any.  (I'm by no means saying his parents are bad people, just saying the ambition and willingness to help their children believe the sky's the limit wasn't present when my husband was a young man). This takes a toll on our marriage and our financial situation.
I was raised (by an enthusiastic mom) to go and get, to never feel ashamed of being smart (go figure!), to go to the beat of my own drum, and if someone had a problem with it, to know someone had my back. I'm becoming a worm, digging deeper in the dirt to not even suggest that I can conquer the world, that we can bring more money home if he chooses to be the stay at home parent or redirect his goals and take a more realistic approach to the fact that his speech may be the reason as to why he can't and probably will not advance in the financial field, that we could be so much better off if we both had the guts to "go and get", to "stand up and do" and stop resting in our laurels and pretend that where we're at is good enough, when it isn't.
I started off in this relationship being very dominant, wrong approach of course, because, this far into it, it was easier to join him than to change him, our finances are a mess and our lifestyle, plain mediocre; and this, of course makes the depression worse when it lurks around the corner. Then I have no validity in his eyes, "because I'm ill". It's a vicious cycle. Then I want to go to my mom and hide in her arms...or at least go for a walk with her on a summer evening...

To have major depressive disorder is not the same as "feeling blue"...

Originally a Note from my FB profile...will translate on later time, since this is a really good letter to my acquaintances about what living with depression has been for me, especially this week.

Tener depresion aguda no es "andar en la depre"...

...No se quita solo "siendo positivo" aunque eso ciertamente ayuda.Tener depresion aguda tampoco quiere decir que uno deja de tener fe en Dios y en su misericordia, ni que "que pecado tan grande debo haber cometido que mira que me ha mandado Dios", no quiere decir que uno nunca jamas se rie o es capaz de sonreir, o de sentir amor por sus hijos.  Tal como una persona que no sufre de depresion aguda cronica no se esta riendo todo el santo dia, o se enoja o se pone triste, lo que pasa cuando la depresion es cronica es que la sensacion de estancamiento perdura y es mas dificl hacer tareas que los otros no consideran debilitantes.
Cuando uno tiene depresion cronica, la fatiga viene de tratar de vivir "con mas ganas" la vida, nuestro cuerpo no cuenta con los quimicos necesarios como la dopamina y la serotnina (tal como  un diabetico con un desequilibrio de insulina) que ayudan a lidiar con las cosas mas sencillas; y, derrumbando cualquier idea que los demas puedan tener de que los deprimidos solo somos flojos, es lo contrario: uno debe esforzarse el doble -si se tiene la nocion de lo que le pasa, como en mi caso, despues de 7 anios en tratamiento psiquiatrico, tres hospitalizaciones y 17 anios de terapia psicologica, actividad fisica, cambios en la dieta para aumentar niveles de serotonina, tecnicas de relajacion y visualizacion- para tratar de pasar el dia y funcionar en el empleo, en la casa y tratar de dar entusiasmo a los hijos, en otras palabras, uno gasta mucha energia tratando de efectivamente no dejar que la depresion reine. Es injusto que los demas nos "den aliento" dando a entender que no le echamos suficientes ganas a la vida, queridos mios: no tienen idea de cuantas mas ganas uno debe echarle de amancer a anocher, dia tras dia.
Uno tiene dias mejores que otros. Ayer fue un dia muy cansado, donde mi animo solo respondia llorando y la fatiga viene al tratar de evitar ese animo, y no dejar que mi nenita vea a su mami asi de malita. Y es que, cuando uno toma medicamento, los niveles de los quimicos en el cerebro medio se nivelan y le ayudan a uno a poder dar mas batalla. Yo tengo tres semanas de no tomar mi medicamento, por razones medicas y muy importantes para mi esposo y yo, de modo que soy completamente responsable de ser consciente de mis estados de animo y parte de esto es ser honesta y poder comunicar cuando tengo dias pesados, esto efectivamente ayuda al enfermo.
Es dificil explicar la depresion como enfermedad real, sobre todo cuando uno vive en dualidad cultural y de perspectiva. A mi esposo se lo tuvo que apenas explicar mejor el psiquiatra hace algunos meses, y aun cuando a mis padres les trate de explicar como actua esta enfermedad, bueno, uno fue victima de ella y la otra aun creo que no le queda claro que sucede en mi vida con este padecimiento. Tengo entendido que es un hecho que muchos miembros de mi familia materna y paterna padecen de algun grado de trastorno de estado de animo, pero a menos que tengan mas contacto con la perspectiva americana, los demas se "diagnostican" o tachan unos a otros de locos enfermos!
Y es que, cuando uno ha vivido con depresion la mayor parte de su vida en Mexico aun no hay un entendimiento de lo que sucede en el cerebro y en la vida de la persona. Y no digo que en USA sea distinto, pero ultimadamente aqui es donde finalmente le dieron al clavo y desde hace 7 anios estoy tratando de aceptar mi condicion y de aprender a vivir con este padecimiento. En Mexico simplemente todo mundo me criticaba o decia que "era sangrona o muy voluble". de ahi el iniciar terapia, "para dejar de ser grosera con los demas"...
En fin, lo que quiero dejar claro es que esto no es cuestion de opinion, es una situacion real y latente en la vida del enfermo, como el cancer o la diabetes, aun no se encuentra una cura pero se puede lograr "pausar los sintomas" con varias alternativas, y aun asi todos los que a diario luchamos con enfermedades de la mente vivimos con la esperanza de que se lograra encontrar una cura.

Speak now or forever hold your piece...

So many things to share lately...where to begin?  The husband getting a new car? Me becoming an American? My finally getting a little bit organized? My finding the perfect office desk for an awesome price and the store to not have it until God knows when again? The baby saying "no" as her first word? How lucky and grateful I am for my husband? Me gaining 7 lbs. after starting a diet?  The ex-husband encounter? The relatives dropping the divorce bomb on me?
Pick a topic, please!

"you can cure yourself from depression"

Just walked in from a house party where I heard, one more time the "you can cure yourself from depression" theory. The one where the speaker is so fucking convinced that, from personal experience, it only takes a lot of personal will and strength to rid yourself from the evil possession that results in depressive mood.
Right. Tell that to the woman who three years to this date found her partner, who struggled with bipolar and depression, dead after committing suicide. To his son who was the first one to come see her and the dead man and who still will not admit himself that depression is a bitch, a real disease that takes lives, who says that suicide victims are just weak freaks. Sad. Tell that to me, who have lived with depression since childhood, and whose father was that man her mother found three years ago in their family home, and for whom his loss is harder to deal with the more the years that go by and it certainly made even less sense when I had a child myself.
It's an issue (mental illness, being a REAL illness, like diabetes or cancer) very dear and close to my heart, because I myself have to still get to the acceptance stage, the one where I feel OK knowing that I live with this (depression, anger, anxiety, mood swings) and that it is not just a situational "little depressive stage", but a biological and perhaps genetic origin illness that hinders my ability to enjoy life like "normal" people may. Please don't get me wrong, it is by no means cool  to be diagnosed with mental illness, unlike many young people seem to think now, if we think of depression as a real and present disease that affects the brain's function and by consequence the body, maybe it won't be so fucking glamorous and/or people won't minimize it as when they say "we all have issues". We may all have issues, but we have not all been seriously and medically diagnosed and receive proper treatment and are not committed to the betterment of our wellbeing and our health. We would all be better people if we did, though.

So, hear me when I scream: Screw you, high and mighty self cured depressed people, and please keep your opinions about mental illness not being an illness to yourself. Yes, it is all in our heads, because the brain is the organ that is ill...for real. Educate yourself, ask us questions, but please, don't diagnose us and certainly don't treat us if you are not living on our side of the fence, because, even for those who do live with us on our side of the fence this is a daily struggle, please mind us all. I sometimes wonder if I have the energy and should actually start a Hispanic chapter through the NAMI in our city, because we need to reach out and promote make mental illness education present among the Latino community.


Just for today, let us honor that man's life and let us remember his good deeds, and the good times we did have together. May he rest in peace and may the Lord have mercy on him and us. I love and miss you, papa, even when it was so difficult to love and miss you when you were around.

what makes me fume

Is to be ignored. Intentionally. When it's one time, ok, maayybee they just didn't even think of it. But when it's been a couple of years of the same attitudes, is "being part of the family" not clear, yet? ...it makes me wonder.
Let me give you this scenario:
If I  called you  and specifically asked you to call me  back with a response, why would you: first of all, not respond until after two months of my original request, and two, when you actually have a response, NOT call me but my husband, instead???
Major *sigh*. This is getting ridiculous. I just don't know how long it will be or how many more times I will let this happen before I blow up and i t  w i l l  g e t  u g l y. Oh because it is not just you, you see, it is ALL of you. The one, the two, the three, and the four. And it just so happens that other people from my family did that before already so this just adds to my frustration with any family. No wonder why I like to be alone, I don't feel welcome in your homes, and yes, it probably is all in my head. I surprise myself when I remember I decided to marry, some of us should stay alone if we can't stand being hurt.