Self Medicating

This past week was of the longest and most challenging in my recent memory. I say recent memory because having been overdue with 6 out of my 7 children, I think there were some long and challenging weeks there too.

I spent the previous shabbos staffing at “Call of the Shofar” in Baltimore. It’s an incredibly humbling process to witness. Jewish women, bound by their common desire to move past a hurdle. To do better. The time and commitment required is the least of it. It’s the getting deep into the “self”, reaching into the core, vulnerable part that generally stays tucked away, hidden deep down, almost untouchable.

Very rewarding, very gratifying, but it brought up so much stuff for me, I think I need another 100 years of therapy.

So it’s Friday and I’m still a mess. I self medicate in my kitchen, cooking and baking and crying. (I’m thinking my challa may have been a little salty.) Professionals in the field like to call it “self-soothe”. Me, I like the way self medicate sounds. I cook, I bake, I take pictures, I share them - with you... Your welcome.

I always do challa first thing in the morning, for a number of reasons. 

#1 There's enough surface space early in the A.M. As the day progresses I'm piling things, using awkward surfaces and there's a teeter-tottering going on that wouldn't work for a giant bowl of challa dough. 

#2 I want to bake the pareve stuff before the chicken goes in.

#3 I like making challa dough and the later in the day it gets, the more pressure I feel and the more of a chore it feels like.

#4 When I prep the dough bright and early I end up shaping it just after I take my kids to school and then I don't have to tap into the patience required to let them 'help' me.

But I made an executive decision to keep my 7 year old home from school (I hope her teacher isn't reading this) and my 4 year old is getting over something so reason #4 is out the door for this time.

I love the way the dough feels in my hands. The rolling, the shaping, the creating. Instead of rushing though the process I make tiny little six braided challas. I call this culinary therapy.

As I said, reason #4 out the door. I did have some challa baking help. Moussia, age 7, made this one. Isn't it beautiful? I'm very proud of my big girl.

Freida, my 4 year old made a number of challas from the same piece of dough. After each completion, she gingerly placed it on the tray and within seconds was falling apart about a do-over. (hence, reason #4). 

Challa #1: a rosh hashana challa

Challa #2: Yes, all by herself.

Challa #3. Final attempt. "Look Mommy, I made a helicopter." Hmmmm.

My standard little knots. Notice the empty space? That's where Freida's challa kept going.

Making challa in our house is a multi faceted operation. I make traditional(ish) challa and Pinny makes sourdough bread. He doesn't like it that I call it bread, and not challa. He also thinks that sourdough is far more traditional than the egg 'n yeast stuff I bake. I don't have a strong opinion either way (shocking, I know), but a. this is how my kids differentiate and b. I want to give you a little glimpse of my life.

Pinny starts the night before by placing some sourdough starter in a bowl with a little flour and water. Come Friday morning he adds oats, flour, water and salt and leaves it to rise for hours. Pinny uses the biggest bowl and smallest fork he can find. My day is filled with things that make you go hmmmmm.

In between the shaped challas rising and baking, I start a cookie dough. I'm feeling sorry for myself so I make my neiman marcusesque cookies.

I measure out oats and grind some raw cacao beans in my mortar and pestle.

Huge lapse of judgement there. I end up eating way too much cookie dough. 

While the cookies were baking I cooked up some chick peas with cilantro, garlic, olive oil and paprika.

I cooked them until they smelled good and were somewhat browned.

We sample the cookies after they have cooled. Freida doesn't like them and asks me "to make another treat". More cookies. Why not? We just have to get the fish and chicken happening.

I prep the chicken with lemon, rosemary, garlic, homemade olives and cumin.

My fish order arrives just in time. I ordered ground whitefish and filleted red snapper. I add chopped garlic, cilantro, a bit of turmeric, salt, pepper and couple of eggs to the ground fish.

I heat up the olive oil and dredge balls of fish in flour. This is a step that I frequently skip, (the flour, not the oil) but today is one of those days where I want to go all the way. I feel like covering all the little details.

When it's closer to Shabbos I will put these into a frying pan. Add olive oil, paprika, water and a jalapeno pepper and cook. I serve them hot Friday night and cold Shabbos afternoon.

The fish takes a while. In between batches we get the next set of cookies going. Freida wants 'plain white' and 'some with jelly'. My basic cookie recipe is just right for this. Freida sits on the counter and helps me. I measure and she pours.

I drain the fish, set the next batch frying and get back to the cookies.

I put some jam into a sandwich sized ziploc bag and snip the corner off. I am squeezing with my left hand, taking pix with my right hand. It's one heavy camera, that Canon 60D,  I am so capable. Freida approves of these cookies. Whew.


When the fish patties are done I prepare the snapper. I dredge it lightly in flour and fry until golden. I sprinkle it with sea salt and freshly ground pepper. This is a delicious dish if you can get it really fresh. Don't buy previously frozen snapper. It stinks. 

I'm sure I've mentioned this before - Pinny is a fabulous cook. He's creative, experimental, persistent and messy. He gets back to his sourdough as I'm finishing up with the fish. Pinny takes up a lot of kitchen when he cooks, and I take up the whole kitchen so we try and pace ourselves. He is learning to come do his thing before the housekeeper cleans up after me. This is a learning process. He used to wait for a clean kitchen...


Pinny takes his dough very seriously. He shapes some into loaves, rounds and then the awesome sesame braids. He rolls each strand into sesame seeds before braiding. Then he coats the whole braid with sesame seeds again. Yum. 


I'm having a hard time here choosing pictures. There are 105 pictures of the bread process and I don't know what to do. Don't judge me, I told you I was having a hard day.

--can I just say that this was harder than choosing pictures for my wedding album--

The breads rise, their tops are scored and they make their way into the oven.

During the first 15 minutes of the baking process, the oven door is opened frequently and water is sprayed. This creates a steam, and I'm not totally sure what the purpose is, but the bread is delicious. Don't try this with pyrex or other glassware. We did and it took hours to clean up the mess.

I took 581 pictures, but somehow, lots of other food didn't get photographed. Roasted eggplant salad with garlic, tahini, baba-tahini, fennel salad with granny smith apples and citrus marinade, roasted golden and chiogga beets, roasted cauliflower, red quinoa salad with zucchini and red onions, green goddess dressing, miso dressing, and chicken soup. I think that's all. I took a picture of my fridge. It's rather messy though. Wanna see it?


Hey, thanks for listening. I'm feeling better already. Why did I eat all that cookie dough?


And my emotional state, well that takes a little more effort. Applied mindfulness. Tapping into the feelings that I'm afraid of. Acknowledging them. Validating them. Giving them space to grow and ultimately, to be released.  When I find it challenging to provide self care, I find comfort in being creative, by playing with food, with dough, with the camera. I recognize that therapeutic activity is a substitute, a temporary fill in, one that I am grateful for. It's a tool that helps create a space in which I can ultimately address that which is plaguing my soul.




To good health,


Chana

D.I.Y. Olives - Part 3

So I go away for three little days and I come home to discover the olives have been seasoned. Flavored. Spiced. After waiting all this time, done without me. Without pictures. Without capturing the image, without documenting the process. I'm breathing through this. I'll get through this moment. I will survive.


I took some pictures today so you can see what's happening happened (without me).

After much arm-twisting, I was able to drag the recipe out of Pinny: olive oil, salt, lime and dried chili peppers. Lime because we're out of lemons.

This jar has dry red wine, olive oil, sea salt, dried chili peppers and some Italian seasoning.


I'm wondering why I don't see any garlic in either of these. Or fresh herbs. Cumin seed. Oh, right, because I wasn't part of the process.


Just in case somebody thought that wrapping up these olives without me was not offensive, my housekeeper told me that my children were very well behaved while I was gone. "When you husband go away, they fight. When you go away they very nice."  


Maybe I should leave more often...




Off to plan my next getaway,


Chana




PS If you missed the beginning of the journey: Olives Part 1 and Olives Part 2.
Part 4 to follow when they are fit for consumption.

On Codependence

G-d, grant me the serenity

To accept the people I cannot change,

Courage to change the person I can

And the wisdom to know it’s me.

________

It’s difficult to remember the particular instance when I discovered that I am codependent. It was shocking, that’s for sure, but there was a comfort, a validation of sorts, in finding a label, in knowing that I was not alone. Codependency is part of the addictive spectrum. As with other addictions, codependency is essentially a coping mechanism used to lessen emotional pain.

A codependent may display some of these characteristics:

-Easily absorbs the pain and problems of others.

-Value of self comes from the approval of others.

-Uncomfortable expressing true feelings.

-Wants to be in control.

-Overwhelming desire to feel needed by other people.

-Feels guilty for the behavior of others.

-Difficulty trusting other people.

-Keeps quiet in order to avoid confrontation.

-Uncomfortable accepting compliments from others.

-Feels terrible about making mistakes.

-Difficulty refusing someones request.

-Remains loyal, even if the other person or situation is harmful.

When I initially heard the character descriptions of a codependent it was difficult for me to comprehend that this was a problem. I thought I was SUPPOSED to take responsibility for other people’s behavior. I thought it was good that I accepted the weight of the world on my shoulders. I was meant to fix other people’s problems, wasn’t I? To help them change and have better lives? I thought I was being a good Jewish wife and mother.

Well, I was obviously doing something wrong so I tried harder to make things work. To make things better. I pushed myself a little further and inevitably, I would feel overwhelmed and become resentful. This in turn would lead to guilt over my feelings. How hard is it to make someone else happy? Am I so selfish that I can’t give a little more to resolve this issue for another person? Isn’t it easier to take responsibility for an error that belongs to somebody else than to deal with the aftermath, with their feelings of inadequacy? Oh yes. It was the most efficient way to exist. Take care of everything myself. After all, if I wanted it done right, I needed to do it myself.

As my awareness grew about codependence and its patterns, the more I recognized myself. I began to realize that I was being dishonest. I didn't always want to be that accommodating yet I felt that I had to. That it was expected of me. I wasn't really accepting - I wanted people to change. I noticed that my resentment would follow an instance where I pushed myself too far. Where I gave more than I wanted to. Where I ignored my boundaries.

Codependents see things in black and white. Or always and never. (You never take out the garbage when I ask you to. You always leave your socks in the living room.) This faulty thinking pattern prefaced an over-reaction in my life, about a million times. Maybe more. It also led to my feeling defensive and antagonistic.

Another faulty thinking pattern I had perfected was “expecting the worst”. Constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop and the emotional chain reaction that ensues is exhausting. I wish I could take back the many hours I willingly gave to planning for the worst case scenario.

Our experiences during childhood forge our adulthood. When a child is raised in a negative environment (be it addiction, neglect or abuse, etc.) they devise survival mechanisms that develop into social/emotional habits such as compulsive caretaking, martyrdom, controlling, people-pleasing, and approval-seeking. As adults, codependents frequently surround themselves with unhealthy people. Something reminiscent to that which they are accustomed to from childhood.

How is caretaking different from parenthood? How are people-pleasing and martyrdom different from friendship? How is controlling different from marriage? These questions leave me most challenged, yet they are also the ones that give me the most clarity.

As parents, we give to our children in a selfless way so that they learn to give to themselves and ultimately to others. We care for them completely, allow them to grow, learn and gain independence. 

Friendship is an interpersonal relationship that is mutually beneficial. Two distinct people share a respect for one another, a deep bond, enjoy each other's company and bring out each other's potential.

Marriage is a relationship where two parts of a soul merge and find completion. It is where two people become one, yet remain individual, with their own needs and desires.

Giving from a place of kindness and love is not enough for me.  I need to give from a place of well-being, a place where I remain within my boundaries. As long as I hold on to that value I can give the world. As soon as I give outside of my boundaries, it becomes a destructive behavior.

My therapist initially mentioned codependence to me and helped me recognize my telltale signs. The exhaustion, the guilt, the resentment, the emotion. Now these are my cues, my reminders, that I've gone too far. I am developing the ability to track these symptoms before they become full-blown.

I have gained tremendously from the work of Rabbi Shais Taub. Shais's book, God of Our Understanding discusses the Jewish perspective of the 12-step program. Many people I have spoken to about the 12-step program expressed concern about its source. Shais allays those concerns in his book and describes the spiritual principles and their compatibility with Torah. The work of Melody Beattie, a codependent herself, include many books such as Codependent No More, The New Codependency and The Language of Letting Go. I recommend reading any or all of her writing and also the work of Pia Mellody.

Most beneficial has been my participation in a CoDA (Codependents Anonymous) meeting. As with all 12-step programs people facing similar challenges meet and share and provide support for one another. I am particularly grateful to my fellow codependents, as we face ourselves and each other with honesty, dignity, acceptance and compassion.

My name is Chana and I am codependent.

_________
PS

Some affirmations that I value from my CoDA meetings

Just for today I will respect my own and others’ boundaries. Just for today I will be vulnerable with someone I trust Just for today I will take one compliment and hold it in my heart for more than just a fleeing moment. I will let it nurture me. I am beautiful inside and outside. I love myself unconditionally. I can allow myself ample leisure time without feeling guilty. I deserve to be loved by myself and others. I deserve love, peace, prosperity & serenity. I forgive myself for hurting myself and others. I forgive myself for letting other people hurt me. I am not alone. I am whole and good. I am capable of changing. The pain that I might feel by remembering cannot be any worse than the pain I feel by knowing and not remembering.