What started it all? I don't know but here I am and there are so many thoughts running through my heads at all times and I''m just trying to sort some of them out. So let's start with where I currently am - sitting at my dining room table which is covered now in painting supplies, paint, and a mix of baking and cooking items. Under the table there is a puppy gently licking my toes - upstairs my husband is sleeping. He will be up in the next hour or two to get ready to work and here I sit completely awake and unable to sleep. It is 4:07 am and I'm completely awake. I am here in depression and anxiety-ville looking onto the PTSD ocean.
I am seeing a counsellor and doctor, I'm going through the process of finding a long term support system and proper medication to help me and the words that keep cycling through my head are trauma - my counsellor likes to refer to my past generally as the trauma I have been through and there has been a bit of it and I'm not in a situation or place to currently delve into my past trauma right now. As counsellor says I'm working on my baby steps of basic survival, he says that there are four parts to human life: sleep, eating, social interaction and exercise. We are currently working on the first two - sleep and eating. Sleep has been an interesting experience - I have switched from sleeping a total of 18 hours in a week to now being able to get a total of between 6 to 12 hours in a day but definitely not at normal times and not continuous. I'm not so much worried about this right now (or let's not kid anyone I'm trying not to worry about it because the more I stress about it the worse time I have trying to sleep.) This bring me back to food.
I have an interesting and dynamic relationship with food and right now the thing that keeps circling in my head centres from my for journey and trying to figure out who I am. in watching a lot of my favourite cooking shows the chefs and cooks talk about cooking and the inspiration they had as a child, the food that they had cooked for them while they were growing up. I have circled over this question of my cooking roots for many months trying to figure out my future cooking path and processing and understanding the passing of my last grandparent, Memere who I desperately wish I had more time with.

So where does this leave me? right now covered in paint (never really been artistic but I'm inspired by my daughter) contemplating when I will get to make the Lemon Meringue pie I have wanted since I bought Myer lemons more than a few days ago and thinking that I really should be going to sleep.
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