Be Not Insignificant

I don’t know how to begin this. I did have an opening that was pretty funny and clever, but honestly, I don’t feel like being funny right now. I feel like being real. Something that is lacking in today’s world a lot. With all the pressure to be on trend, be good at TikTok or whatever social media is poppin’ at the moment, and be more than what we are, I would like to be who I am and say I don’t know how to say what I want to. So, I’m going to type and see if something good comes of it.

For a while I was avoiding the Netflix show Bridgerton, because while I do find myself enjoying those types of period dramas, it looked like it was too bubblegum for me. Too pastel. I base my standard of enjoyment on the 2005 Pride and Prejudice with Kiera Knightley, if that tells you anything about me. I judged myself hardcore for watching all of the first season in a night (I had insomnia, might as well, right?). But then I watched it again because I was captivated by Rege-Jean Page’s performance as the Duke of Hastings. Not because he’s visually stunning (well, yes, that) but because his acting was remarkable. The way he conveyed subtlety is something I don’t think can ever be taught in an acting class, and each time it took my breath away. I truly believed he loved Daphne.

I did not have the same childhood Simon did, but I do know the weight of pressure, and the weight of personal promises. I won’t go into it too far because I don’t want to spoil anything, but there’s a scene that kind of stuck me right in the middle of my biggest insecurity. I didn’t even know it existed until I saw it so plainly on his face. After a confusing moment with Daphne where she says some pretty intense and rather hurtful things, Simon reaches out to her and says:

“You said I was enough!”

The desperation and pleading in his face, the absolute betrayal of what he thought was love was like a lightning bolt from my head to my toes. I wanted to throw up when I realized. I actually had a small breakdown because it hit me so hard, and I was so embarrassed that it was such a “bubblegum” show that caused me to have this incredibly powerful realization about myself.

I’ve always said my biggest fear is losing my family. And it’s still pretty high up there on the list, along with snakes and spiders, but in terms of metaphysical fear, I am afraid of not being good enough at love to keep it if I have it. When I have feelings for someone, and I mean real feelings with intent (not my ridiculous attraction to Henry Cavill), I tend to become obsessive about it. I throw myself into being the best me I can be and watch the other person to make sure I’m doing what they like and I either tone it down or raise the level depending. It’s not the same as changing myself, because I’m still me, just reducing or elevating the qualities the person of my affection seems to approve of, or disapprove. I never realized it was a fear of losing them.

But there seems to be a bit in all of us, a bit that hides behind the curtains of jokes and trending videos. The part we reach for when we’re drunk with self-pity–for good reason because here we are on a Saturday night talking to the internet. Life is so full, and yet so empty all the same.

I don’t define myself by a relationship. But should the day come, I want to be exactly what someone needs. As Simon puts it, “From the mornings you ease, to the evenings you quiet, to the dreams you inhabit, my thoughts of you never end.” I’m not interested in being someone’s everything, which might seem like a contradiction to what I’ve said above, but hear me out. I’ve been very good at being alone for a very long time, and I’d need time to be away, but I want to be home for someone. I want to be the smile that catches someone off guard. The reason for inappropriate laughter. The distraction in a work meeting because of an intense conversation the night before about something in a book we’ve both read.

I can be the most compassionate, the brightest, creative, kind, generous, whatever positive label you want to put on me, but if I do not feel it in my bones, I will never agree that I am worth it. I never want to see doubt in another person’s face, a person I’ve trusted to love me. I think that would shatter me. It’s a lot to take in, and this has been very personal. Some might wonder why I’m being so open and personal on the internet where everything is forever, but it’s because feeling like this is not new. And it is not limited to me. We should be able to talk about our deepest insecurities and not feel judged for them.

So, where does that leave us for today? I don’t know. I don’t know why I chose the title of this piece to be what it is, but the phrase stuck with me, so I’m keeping it. I guess my final thought would be don’t get so caught up in thinking you’re the worst when really you could be the best to someone. Hiding behind our self-doubt and loathing only sharpens that knife of self-betrayal, and one day will leave us bitter and empty. The emptiness I feel now is nothing to the emptiness I know exists within bitterness, and I do my best to stay above that.

This isn’t a happy blog post, and I won’t apologize for it. If you do have someone you love, I wish you joy and contentment in your love. I wish for you to soar with each other and be the brightness the other needs in the weird, wild world we have these days.

Keep smiling. Keep loving. You are, as always, enough.

Until next time, friends.

Dear Henry

It’s been a bit since I’ve written to you. It’s not that I don’t want to. I could write to you every day, probably. I get stuck when I try to, though, because I don’t know what to say to you. I love you and miss you aren’t enough for how I feel without you. I’ve tried to find something to fix the planks your death tore off my walls and I’ve been doing a terrible patch job. Crushes on celebrities, falling for a married man (that was weird, you would have laughed at me, but not rudely). I haven’t written poetry much either. Because you won’t read it. I usually wrote it for you anyway. Not that it was about you. I knew you’d read it and that made me feel seen.

You saw me, Henry. You saw me for who I am without wondering what the mess was around me. Maybe I wasn’t messy to you, I don’t know. What I do know is there will never be anyone who comes close to you. How do you love someone when you’ve already loved and lost your soulmate? I know, you’d find that rather silly and call me a silly girl, but I’d be your silly girl.

My therapist (you’d like her, she’s great) told me the love would just be different, it wouldn’t be less or more, it’d just be different and she’s right (she usually is). She’s right. But I still can’t read your letters without becoming a sobbing mess. I tried to today. I really did try, but reading your last words to me reminded me I won’t get any more words. And I want them. I want to hear how your writing is going, I want to hear how your brother is doing (I think about him a lot), I want to talk books, history, all the things we talked about when you were here. And I want to hear you love me.

I miss you. On nights when the moon is clear in the sky, I tell myself it’s you saying hi, that you’re all right, that you don’t feel bad anymore. It’s been three years, but when I think about it, it still feels like you died last night and I can’t breathe and I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t. I wish it didn’t make me sad, I know you wouldn’t like knowing this makes me sad, but it does and I just want to be your Carla again.

I love you.

Let’s Talk

I had every intention of making this post about why I haven’t been blogging, but I mean come on.  There’s a pandemic and it’s thrown everyone into a tailspin and we’re all just doing our best.  I don’t know if I can say I’m doing my best, but I’m certainly trying to.

So, what are we going to talk about?  I don’t really know.  I wanted to be all poetic and beautifully worded, but I’m tired.  I’m very tired.  Maybe more tired than I’ve been before, and I know it’s deeper than because the world has felt like it’s been ending.  My depression manifests itself with unwashed dishes and unfolded laundry.  I finally got my kitchen cleaned and organized this weekend and it felt impossible the entire time.

It’s not a lack of motivation.  It’s more an attempt to pull an elephant out of a watermelon and you only have dental floss.  We hear so many times of people losing their battles with depression and anxiety and all kind of other mental illness, but what about the people fighting?  Daily striving to feel something other than a crushing weight of indescribable heft just hanging from our teeth.  Our chests are tight from holding in ourselves.  We can’t be too emotional, we can’t show we feel, so we hold it in, and we hold it tight because no one wants to know we’re struggling.

A lot of people are saying it’s okay not to be okay, and that’s true, but the caveat is you do something about it once you realize you’re not.  Self care isn’t always soft and gentle like those romanticized posts making the rounds on Instagram and Tumblr make it out to be.  Yeah, it can be those small moments, but real self care, the deeper self care is ugly.  It’s having moments where you tell yourself that enough is enough and you wash your dishes. You take a shower.  You brush your teeth.  The smallest things have the biggest significance.  You fight back for yourself.  You fight hard to beat back the voice that tells you you’re a failure.  Because you’re not.  You’re doing your best and that’s enough.  You are enough.

We are stronger than what our demons call us.  We can make it through this and more. I shouldn’t be here, but I am because there is some part of me that is determined to prove myself wrong.  I don’t ever tell people it gets better, because it hasn’t so far for me, but it gets easier to hoist on my shoulders and carry it.

You are worth it.  You are valued and you are loved most fiercely.  Hold on to those words until they fit into the bits of you that are broken because you are beautiful and the world needs you.

Support These Vegans

If you are feeling overwhelmed and unsure of what to do to support those who need support, here are some vegans you can follow on Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/plantbasedrd/

https://www.instagram.com/veganreina/

https://www.instagram.com/blackveganstoday/

https://www.instagram.com/southernveganeats/

https://www.instagram.com/icanyoucanvegan/

https://www.instagram.com/badassvegan/

https://www.instagram.com/diaryofamadblackvegan/

https://www.instagram.com/byanygreens/

https://www.instagram.com/sweetgreensvegan/

https://www.instagram.com/iamtabithabrown/

https://www.instagram.com/damgoodvegan/

https://www.instagram.com/sweetpotatosoul/

This is a bandwagon I’ll jump on and stay on for as long as it takes for change to happen.  And then I’ll keep on the bandwagon to make sure that change is maintained.

Holiday Hiatus

Hello!  I am going to take a short break from updating this blog while the holidays are happening.  It’s a busy time of year for a lot of people, and my family is the same.  I’ll be back in the middle of January with more recipes.

Have a safe and cozy holiday season wherever you are.  And if the holidays are a rough time for you, I hope it is easier this year.

Thank you for the support! I’m excited to keep growing as a food blogger.

Clifty Falls Trip, October 2018 (Long Post)

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Today is my birthday.  I love having an autumn birthday because I get to see the world at its finest, getting dressed for winter.  As a present to myself, I usually like to go hiking in one of the state parks here in Indiana where I live, but this year I decided to do something different.  I went camping by myself.  I arrived in the park on Wednesday, the 24th, and left on Saturday, the 27th.  Wednesday and Thursday were positively lovely.  I spent most of the night I arrived setting up my camp and getting my dinner sorted.  I made a tinfoil dinner, I dropped right on the embers of my fire.  I had roasted potatoes, carrots, broccoli, and some seitan sausage I made the night before.  I also added in some salt and pepper, and a seasoning blend of nutritional yeast, onion and garlic powder, and smoked paprika.  It was quite delicious.

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I usually like to go on these excursions with my brother and sister, but this time I felt the need to go by myself.  There is something incredibly freeing in wandering by yourself in nature.  It’s almost a spiritual act, but more for me it’s deeply centering.  It brings me back to a place in myself I very rarely can find.  I don’t work in a particularly straining job physically, but mentally it can be very debilitating at times.  I’ve dealt with mental illness most of my life, so having added stress can make me feel kind of hollow and like I’m floating through my interactions with people I care about, as well as not giving my best effort at a job I’m really quite good at.

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What I liked most about Clifty Falls was the depth of the canyons, and the sound of the wind in the trees.  Obviously, the canyons here are not nearly as enormous as say, the Grand Canyon, but living in a mostly flat, cornfield-filled state is sort of discouraging.  So, it was nice to be reminded that there are beautiful parts of my state.  I think it’s important to find those beautiful things about where you live.  My hometown is not exactly good for natural beauty, but there are some elements in it that are rather stunning.  Sunsets can be quite remarkable during certain parts of the year.

Clifty Falls is certainly beautiful.  I will say I prefer Turkey Run State Park, but I don’t regret going where I did.  I went hiking on Thursday, and I was not disappointed.  Well, I was about one thing, but I’ll go into that later.  It was challenging.  There was a moment where I had to stop to catch my breath–something more to do with how out of shape I am than anything–and I found myself staring out at an impressive vista of color, rock, and trees.  The sun was peeking through the clouds at just the right moment, and I felt peace for the first time in almost a year.

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One of the reasons I wanted to go by myself was so I could do a lot of thinking.  Most of it pertained to the death of my friend, Henry.  Henry died last September, and so it’d been about a year or so since he’d gone, and I hadn’t really confronted my grief about it.  It’s hard to explain how much he meant to me, because even though I didn’t ever really meet him, we wrote each other letters and spoke daily for almost ten years.  His loss is something I can’t think about for too long because it still devastates me a year later.  I know that grief is something that everyone deals with in their own way and own time, but this feels like too much for me sometimes.

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Being in the fresh air certainly helped me as I approached my grief.  I often thought about writing to Henry, especially when the moon was out Wednesday night.  He was very fond of the moon, and his nickname on forums was Moon.  I have a tattoo with a quote from one of his favorite books, Desolation Angels by Kerouac, on my left arm.  “The moon is a piece of me.”  In this way, I felt I was able to keep part of Henry with me at all times.  I didn’t end up writing anything, mostly because I was too busy trying to start fires in incredibly windy campgrounds.

I didn’t end up eating much on Friday, as it rained all day and my plan for oatmeal and a fire cooked pizza didn’t end up happening.  Next time, if I go camping, I’ll bring more ready to eat foods.  Not only was it raining, it was windy.  I remembered to pack extra socks, but I completely forgot my peanut butter.  Starting a fire was impossible on Friday, so I ate my last premade pb&j sandwich I’d brought for hiking, some granola bars, and then for dinner, I had some bread and butter because I didn’t have much else.  Frustrated by the day of rain, I went to bed and tried to sleep.  By this time, more people had arrived to the campground, so it was much noisier than the past two nights.  It made sense, as it was one of the last good camping weekends.  However, when I woke up, I heard more rain on the rain fly of my tent and decided to just pack up and go.

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I was, of course, disappointed with not being able to finish out my trip on a high note, but what I got out of this was beyond worth it.  I saw a beaver on my trek through the trees, almost slipped into a ravine–which is why I don’t recommend hiking by yourself–and I spoke to strangers along the pathways like one does in the middle of nowhere where no one knows your name.  I took several rolls of film photographs, and I fell in love again with a small part of myself that enjoys the little things in life.  That was a success for me.  The bitter part of me got slightly miffed at the small boys yelling at the top of their lungs as they explored, but I reminded myself that children should be allowed to enjoy themselves without the censure of adults.  Within reason, of course.

All in all, I say this trip was incredibly wonderful.  I hope to post some recipes soon.  I’ll try to be more diligent about food talks and fitness talks.  I threw in a little for this post so it wouldn’t be completely irrelevant, hah.

I hope you are well.  If you are struggling, please know that I believe in you to accomplish what you need to do today.

Black Bean and Walnut Burgers

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Life being what it is, and my lack of motivation for blog posting, here’s a simple recipe for some burgers.  They’re easy.  All you need is a food processor, a mixing bowl, spatula, baking sheet, and that’s pretty much it.  Measuring spoons, too, if you’re in the mood for precise measurements.

Black Bean and Walnut Burgers 

1 cup walnuts, lightly toasted (you don’t want them completely raw, but not completely toasted either)
1 can black beans, drained and rinsed
1/2 cup quinoa, cooked
1/4 cup plain bread crumbs (the can I have isn’t vegan, which makes me wonder why milk is sneaked into everything like it knows the deal)
2 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp white vinegar
1 heaping tbsp tomato paste
1 tsp salt
1 tsp black pepper
1 tsp onion powder
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1 heaping tsp smoked paprika (optional, but it adds in that nice kind of charred taste you get from a grill without having a grill)
1 flax egg (1 tbsp ground flaxmeal, 3 tbsp water, mix and set aside for two minutes)

In your food processor, mix together all of the ingredients aside from the bread crumbs and quinoa.  You want it to resemble a wet dough almost.  Scrape sides if you’ve got some errant spices (my paprika likes to cling to the sides). Some chunks are okay.  Texture and whatnot.

After this, add the mixture to a mixing bowl and add in the quinoa and bread crumbs.  Mix together pretty well.  You don’t want to have bread crumbs hanging out.

Scoop out 1/3 cup of the mixture and press into a patty shape.  You get about six patties out of this mixture.  You can bake them at 375* F for 15-18 minutes, flipping halfway, or you can pan fry them for 2-3 minutes a side.  I didn’t have time to babysit a pan today, so I made mine in the oven.  They freeze spectacularly well, and work well as ground “beef” crumbles in spaghetti sauce.

Fair warning, they do dry out a little in the oven, so pan frying is recommended, but if you’re okay with dousing things in barbecue sauce like I am, then you’ll be fine with oven baked.