There's a lot of information out there that links depression with gluten sensitivity. Now I'm not a doctor, or a scientist, though I've got some friends who have mad microscope skills, so I generally go with what Doctor Google tells me when I have health-related questions.
Doctor Google or my in-laws. It's excellent to be related to people in the medical profession when you have an emergency question at 3 in the morning.
But about gluten sensitivity, I go to my other in-laws, who actually deal with Celiac disease on a daily basis. And they've told me that gluten sensitivity causes all sorts of problems one might not think about. Like depression.
But taking gluten out of one's diet is a majorly huge pain in the butt, which is why I did it for a few weeks 2 years ago and then quit. And ever since I've been wondering if I might feel better if I weren't eating gluten.
So a couple of months ago we decided to cut gluten out of our diets again. I've been feeling good. Decently high baseline. Avoiding gluten is still a pain in the butt. And things that contain gluten are really, really yummy.
So yesterday I ate a whole two crumbs of a cake we'd gotten for everybody (except me) to celebrate Father's Day. (I'd gotten my own GF treat so don't go feeling sorry for me and my left-outness.)
And this morning Ryan, um, bumped the tire of the kids' tricycle when we were taking the kids to school. And I burst into tears. I may have yelled. I just might have gotten really really mad.
That tricycle was the symbol of a better life. I imagined the kids riding it up and down the driveway in front of our dream house. I REMEMBERED when Rori got that tricycle for her birthday. It was THE KIDS' TRICYCLE. And now it was BROKEN. And we were NEVER GOING TO GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE and life was NEVER GOING TO BE BETTER and I just might as well stop even trying because what was the point? Life was going to be hopeless forever because a tire on a tricycle got bent.
The replacement part costs $5.
I had a complete breakdown because of a $5 tricycle tire.
It took chocolate to get over it.
Two crumbs, guys. That's all it takes to go completely insane. Two freaking crumbs.
No more gluten for me.
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Monday, June 22, 2015
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Love Languages?
Tell your kids you love them, all the time. But please, do it spontaneously and mean it. If you find you don't mean it, don't lie. Address your own feelings, learn why you don't mean it, and fix the problem. (Because in the most nonjudgmental-to-those-with-emotional-struggles way possible, if you don't love your kids, THAT'S A PROBLEM.) Don't saddle your kids with an understanding of love that's tinged with guilt or expectations.
My shrink repeats to me, every time I tell her about being insecure about my mothering abilities, "What do kids need the most?" and I answer, "love." But what if our form of love is the problem?
As I've been working through depression, my worldviews and how my childhood formed the adult I am in good ways and bad, I've discovered that there's a difference between what I mean when I say "I love you" and what I hear when others say it to me. I suspect that most other people experience their own versions of the same thing, for the same reason that there's no such thing as a perfect childhood.
When someone else says "I love you" to me, I hear "I have an obligation to you and I'm going to stand by it. Also, I want whatever problem you're having to go away." When I say "I love you" to my husband, I mean, "I desperately need you to love and accept me as I am, but even though every time I've given you the opportunity you've gone above and beyond my needs and helped to heal deep wounds, I'm still afraid to open up because I've lived under certain expectations and related guilt my whole life, so here's my version of what I think good wives say and do." When I say "I love you" to Heidi, I mean "I'm so sorry that my depression makes my obligation to you so overwhelming that sometimes I want to run away, because you are such an important and precious person and you deserve so much better than I can give you, and I never want you to hurt in your life, and if I can do anything to make you happy I will."
These disconnects in the meaning of the word "love" cause me pain in my life and make me feel sometimes like I don't know what love is at all. However, I also know that there are others in the world who hear or mean "I hate or resent you but I can't get away from you" when they hear or say "I love you," and I know that I am lucky for my particular dysfunctional connotative misnomers, since all of mine imply care and concern.
If my therapist is right, though, and I'm sure she is, then surely one of the greatest gifts we can give our kids is a healthy meaning of "I love you." It will follow them into every relationship for the rest of their lives, and even affect their understandings of themselves and their own self-worth. Surely this is worth cultivating. (This is also true with spouses, but that's a different discussion.)
What about you? Do you hear and mean different things for "I love you?" How do you try to ensure that your kids and loved ones are hearing real love in your "I love you?"
My shrink repeats to me, every time I tell her about being insecure about my mothering abilities, "What do kids need the most?" and I answer, "love." But what if our form of love is the problem?
As I've been working through depression, my worldviews and how my childhood formed the adult I am in good ways and bad, I've discovered that there's a difference between what I mean when I say "I love you" and what I hear when others say it to me. I suspect that most other people experience their own versions of the same thing, for the same reason that there's no such thing as a perfect childhood.
When someone else says "I love you" to me, I hear "I have an obligation to you and I'm going to stand by it. Also, I want whatever problem you're having to go away." When I say "I love you" to my husband, I mean, "I desperately need you to love and accept me as I am, but even though every time I've given you the opportunity you've gone above and beyond my needs and helped to heal deep wounds, I'm still afraid to open up because I've lived under certain expectations and related guilt my whole life, so here's my version of what I think good wives say and do." When I say "I love you" to Heidi, I mean "I'm so sorry that my depression makes my obligation to you so overwhelming that sometimes I want to run away, because you are such an important and precious person and you deserve so much better than I can give you, and I never want you to hurt in your life, and if I can do anything to make you happy I will."
These disconnects in the meaning of the word "love" cause me pain in my life and make me feel sometimes like I don't know what love is at all. However, I also know that there are others in the world who hear or mean "I hate or resent you but I can't get away from you" when they hear or say "I love you," and I know that I am lucky for my particular dysfunctional connotative misnomers, since all of mine imply care and concern.
If my therapist is right, though, and I'm sure she is, then surely one of the greatest gifts we can give our kids is a healthy meaning of "I love you." It will follow them into every relationship for the rest of their lives, and even affect their understandings of themselves and their own self-worth. Surely this is worth cultivating. (This is also true with spouses, but that's a different discussion.)
What about you? Do you hear and mean different things for "I love you?" How do you try to ensure that your kids and loved ones are hearing real love in your "I love you?"
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