How can you tell the difference between Stress and Depression? Stress for me can be anywhere from physically to toxic related. I have many things that cause me stress. Here are a few triggers for me.
When I’m dealing with financial stress panic sets in, worrying and what can I do.
When I’m dealing with physical stress, my body will begin to become weak and worn out.
When I’m dealing with seasonal stress, I’ll be very restless, tired and drained.
When I’m dealing with emotional stress, I’ll start to believe all the negative thoughts, out of controlling crying, becoming mad and angry.
When dealing with drama stress, I’ll withdraw from those people or situations.
When dealing with toxic stress, my body will begin to shake, tighten, burn and I become angry. I will pick apart the situation making myself even madder. If I let this stress get out of control, I become toxic to myself.
I have many things that cause depression. Here are a few triggers for me. *relationships *emotional *mentally *behavior *physical *drama *toxic When I’m dealing with relationship depression, I begin to hide, shut down, withdraw, but yet fight to figure it out. When I’m dealing with emotional depression, I become a teary mess, crying when others aren’t around. When I’m dealing with mental depression, I can find everything little thing wrong with me, it can eat me alive I begin to drown in the lies. When I’m dealing with behavior depression, my whole being changes, I can put on the many “outfits” of depression, covering up those behaviors. When I’m dealing with physical depression, I can pick myself apart pointing out all the ugly parts of my body and mind. When I’m dealing with drama depression, I can become hateful, mean, defenceful, angry, and ready to tell you what I think and how I feel. When I’m dealing with toxic depression, I can’t seem to find my way out. I fall deeper and deeper into the trap of depression and the mess it has caused in my life, I become toxic to myself. Where am I today you may ask? I’m stuck in the rut of stressed and depressed. I’m racking my brain to get out of this rut, but it seems to be harder on some days than others. When I think I have it figured out, I’m right back to where I was. I have withdrawn from some and leaned towards others. I’m learning who wants to be around me and not cause drama. I will continue to learn as I go. I will learn how to weed out what causes my stress and what causes my depression. It will take time, and sometimes, I don’t allow myself that time. I have to learn to believe I can do it and have trust in myself.
I had been contacted by a member of ancestry.com site. A gentleman we’ll name “Paul”. Paul had asked if I could take a look at his family tree, and see if there were any mistakes before his posted it public. Public as in so others can see it. He didn’t want to do this if the information was wrong, understandable. Being a genealogy freak of course I took on the request. I sent back some of the questions I always ask.
What are they looking for? Ex: dates, facts, names, burial etc.
Birth, Death or Marriage certificates?
Spelling of names
“Paul” sent back answers to the questions. I seen a name I knew. Why, it was in my family tree also. I had to get my notes on my tree to compare information and to give correct information. I took a short break to grab something to eat, and settle down to take an all nighter to do some digging. I wanted to for fill this “Paul” request for help with his family tree. Plus, I wanted to know if in fact we were related.
I did find a few mistakes in “Paul’s” family tree nothing big. Married names as maiden names, a few dates, multiples of the same person and married couples but not the spouses first name. Nothing to big to figure out and fix.
As “Paul” and I continued to sent messages back and forth, with more answers and more questions. And him wanting me to help fix his tree, I asked if he felt like changing his settings on his family tree so that I would able go in and make those changes. “Paul” didn’t think twice about it. Once I got the invite I went to town, fixing little mistakes and adding information I knew was correct from my tree. “Paul” staying contact with me, and I did him. The questions started to shorten as the answers were being given.
I had shared with “Paul” we were related and how. As I had explained to “Paul” how we were related through a family member of his and my family member mine, he was surprised and glad to find a family member as I was too. I added the information I had in my family tree to “Paul’s” family tree which would show him how we were related, nothing close. “Paul’s” tree began to grow like a wild flowers. I had filled in blanks, that were empty. I worked on his family tree for about a week, thinking we would work on the connection we had in our families together. BUT..
There’s always a But.. to my surprise today, “Paul” has removed me from his tree, and is not accepting messages on ancestry any longer. This was all after he had sent me messages throughout the day today. I didn’t learn this until I sat down to add an obituary to “Paul’s” family tree. Wow what a way to end that.
I’m not sure if “Paul” was upset of the obituary I had found, with a spouse’s married name which he had but not the wive’s husband first name. I had shared with him that I’ve had this happened in my family tree. I found an ancestor buried with the first spouse’s last name and not the spouse’s name they had at death. “Paul,” sent back a message with “Wow” and a little more details and that he had a lot of work to do. I sent back message letting him know if he needed help to let me know. But I didn’t think it would mean I could no longer contact “Paul” when I found more information.
I understand it’s up the each genealogist take on who can help and can’t help, but it would have been nice to know after helping him, that my work would be ended. But.. There’s that BUT.. I was able to add the information he had on his family tree to mine, but not the photo’s his had.
I have been tossing around going into business helping others with their family tree’s and research, but it’s moments like these that turn my cheek to the idea. “Paul” had told me how good I was at this, and how helpful I was for him, all the words one likes to hear. Has “Paul’s” action stopped me from helping others? No, I’ll just chalk “Paul” in the book as, limit myself with answers. I know that sounds mean, but I feel if you’re asking someone for help be nice about it and not act like this. These actions turn a lot of genealogist away from helping others.
As I’ve shared I’m joining the ban wagon and taking on the Marie Kondo challenge as I call it. Her presences in the home mades it an easy and calm way of sorting. I do understand there are area’s that become tougher and can cause emotion’s to flare up. I myself didn’t think I would get emotional about sorting paper. Its just paper right? OR is it? I didn’t realize how much paper items I have/had. It seemed as if though I were pulling on a roll of toilet paper. The piles kept coming and coming. I had to finally take a break and come to it a few hours later. To the same piles I had left, what was I thinking that they would disappear by themselves. Don’t I wish.
As I began to sort through my filing cabinet. The one that has my genealogy, birthday, Christmas cards, extra printer paper, scrapbook supplies, a few pictures, disks, and tons of thumb drives I happened to stumble upon a few journals and a scrapbook. What laid inside of those three items bring tears to my eyes. Yes, I was getting emotional over paper. Or was it? I had decided that I would pile all those items into one tote, and come back to it after finishing the other drawers on the filing cabinet. I was able to shred tons of genealogy information that is know longer needed with it being on my laptop. Those ugly yearly tax papers, yes they were shredded too. In two separate piles I place our children’s paper’s or small items that had been stored in the filing cabinet. But those piles were being to grow like wild weeds. They ended up in their own tote’s also.
It was time to kick the scrapbook drawer in the butt. HOLY COW scrapbook supply everywhere, two drawers worth of it. I’m surprised everything didn’t jump out at us when we opened the drawers. Who would thought someone could have so much scrapbooks supply. Well, I mean there are other people who have way more than me so, I guess I don’t have as much as I thought. No I do, lets get to the point, scrapbooking isn’t my thing anymore. I just like the paper. Oh Jeez there’s that word PAPER. Once I got every last piece of paper and sticker out of the drawers and piled onto my kitchen table, I know longer had a table. This project to way more time than I had thought it would. Of course I had to look at each piece of paper. Then the stickers oh man, this job was hard. Once I began reminding myself that I know long do this hobby what was the need for all of this supply. When my mind was set in this mode, it came easy to give the donate or sell pile. Most of it was donated to our neighbor who has small children of their own. What better place to donate these supplies. I did make a few bucks of the items I sold. But wait until you see the drawer now.
It was time to get back to the emotional pile. Tissue on hand, chair to sit in before I fell to the floor, and something to drink. As I begin picking up each items the emotion started flowing. For a healing to take place there is an emotional moment I believe.
The first emotional item I picked up was the white binder. I knew what was in there, but I also forgot. Did I forget or didn’t I want to face that fact of what those three rings were holding? I felt my heart start to beat faster as I began to open that shinny cover. I didn’t want to look at it, but I know I need face that fact that I had written those words. That I had cried harder than I thought I’d cried. This binder holds, notes from when I had first gotten sick six years ago. I began writing in a spinal notebook, then fell off the path and just stopped writing. I thought what if I move all this to a binder, and that way I can just add more paper as I write. That worked for a little bit, the off the path again. The color purple caught my eye. It was that, that the tears began to roll, burning my eyes, and not wanting to touch the purple paper. This was a letter I had written to my husband and children six years ago. Which I haven’t shared with them. The journaling is all over the place on the purple paper. I was angry, scared, and just wanted to tell my side and my feelings to my son. To this day I don’t feel as though I’ve been able to do that. Will I ever, I don’t know. Will I be prepared for that day, most likely not. Did I shred the writting on the purple paper, no it’s resting in the same place in the binder.
As I set the white binder to the side, I had to decide what was I going to sort through next, the Black photo book or the journal. As much as I wanted not to look through the journal I had to. I had to see where I began and where I am today. This journal has blogs about my year of taking care of my mother, leading up to the day that all came to a fast stop, to how I was wanting to kill myself, and hating life. I read the first few pages, crying over each word, and replaying the minutes and memories as tear dripped from my face. The more I read the more I felt like I needed to run, to get away. But I also wanted to stand up and scream, and just hit the person/s who damaged the relationship I had with my mother. I had always thought I was the rock some one, that they would never let me turn to sand and stream through their fingers. They were to be my rock, my support, my shoulder to cry on, to be my sheild, to be able to crawl on their back and hear them call me Sis. But I didn’t I didn’t hear that at all. All I heard were car door shutting, and knowing that was it. That our relationship would never be the same again. That we would part our own ways, and live life as we always did. Yes, as we always did. When help was needed I was called on, I was the running, the filler, the one who put her whole self into the relationship. Dropped whatever she was doing to help, to do her part. Would I do it again, as much as I can sit and say I wouldn’t I know I would, why? Because I have been shown real LOVE. And just because we don’t have a relationship I still love them.
The pages in the journal were heavy, heavy to turn, but yet wet from the tears. There were stains on each page that I turned. My writing in this journal also came to an end. I was tired or writting about being angry, and wanting to tell my side, that I finally just stopped writing. But I also, knew it was time for Eva to grow, to be someone that she was, and not what others had told people. To grow and have stronger relationships with people who want to be my Rock, who want to help me when I’m falling and who want to keep me here on earth. Those people are my Husband, Daughter, My Aunt, and My In Laws, and the few friends I have. Thank you to them, that I’m here writing this blog.
This book holds so many memories, memories that I’ll never let go. Inside the pages holds, pictures of my children when they were babies, first born, school pictures, graduation pictures, sports, and family pictures. There is also photos of myself when I worked at the school, a family picture of myself with my siblings and husband. That was the last “family” picture that was taken of myself with my siblings. And I believe the first one since I was maybe 2 years old. It’s hid the in the back of the book. That’s a picture I don’t understand, and I may never understand. We had that picture taken for our Mother’s Christmas gift. Our Mother was so surprised and teary eyed when she seen it. But what brings me to tears is to know that picture we had taken for her sits in the same box we gave it to her in all those years ago on that Christmas day. Yes, I found it while cleaning my mother’s house a few years ago. Wow, what a slap, or better yet, she doesn’t want to see her children, do we bring that much pain? I’d love to ask that question. Does the picture still sit in that box at My Mother’s home as far as I know yes.
On a better page on the left is of me while I worked at the school. One of my more for filling and favorite jobs. I had always dreamed of being a teacher, but with a learning disablitity and having issues reading, I never went that route in school. Actually I’ve never been to college. But I’ve been close enough to being a teacher. I was a teachers ad for may years. I know, I know, how in the world did I do that with my learning issues. Well, I was in my own world helping students with the same learning problems I had. We were learning together, by making gamings, flash cards, projects, taking test together, doing homework and classwork together, to studying togehter. I had so much fun with this job. I had grown to be something that I thought I’d never be a teacher. I’m proud to say that students I worked with are now graduated, and some hold jobs and some are going to farther their education. How exciting it that?? Pretty Darn Exciting.
Trust, some of us that have a ton of trust, some of don’t have any at all, I’m in that category.
Let’s learn about my father..
I truly believe my problem was and still is, Trust! I grew up in a very toxic, divorce household. My mother raised us kids, my two older brothers and myself. My father was an alcoholic and still is, my parents lied to one another about everything. I have yet to get a straight answer from either of them when I pop the questions, about why things were the way they were. I never was able to have a relationship with my father, and I still don’t. Sure he calls every once in a while, I think the longest that he has gone without calling me has been two years maybe three. I will say when he does call, we have some laughs, we talk about what’s happening in one another’s world, and the phone comes to a fast end. With us hanging up, not saying I love you, I’ll talk to you later, or See ya, nothing just the simple touch of the “X” on the phone.
There were many years ago, I wrote a letter to my father, asking his questions, wanting answers. I wanted him to know how my life was while growing up. I wanted him to feel the pain and the emptiness, anger, loneliness, and most of all to hear his CRY. I learn later that he had called my brother asking him what to do. What, he didn’t know what to do. It’s easy just pick up the phone and call. I was waiting for that phone call, to come any day. But that phone call never came, and still didn’t come, until I had finally chalked up as well he’s not going to call, nothing new. I went on with my life for the next few months, to my surprise he calls! I’m excited, I want to hear the answers to my questions. But the most important I still wanted to hear him cry. Why wouldn’t he cry, just cry damn-it, that’s all I want. My want was never filled, but I did get some answers to my questions. Some of them I had already figured out myself.
Let’s learn about my mother…
For my mother, was a loving, caring, fun, and a hard worker who provided for us kids, she kept a roof over our head and food in our bellies. Our father paid child support it wasn’t much but it was something. The job I only remember the most that my mother had was working for Cincinnati Bell. My mother was in her later twenties early thirties when she was hired to work for Cincinnati Bell as a switchboard operator. While moving up on the ladder, becoming part of the team for telephone books, entering names, numbers and addresses made for a long day and week. She was later promoted to being the team leader who organized the phone lines and numbers for the Cincinnati Reds Stadium when there was an event to take place. My mother was able to keep her headset from the switchboard position, which she later gave it to me. She felt it was be an important part of her story as I was doing genealogy by this time. I can remember all the stories she has shared with me. Some of the stories were she would have to stay late after work to cover for a call in or my grandmother would be mad and angry that she couldn’t just talk to my mother when she felt like it, or why my grandmother didn’t understand that my mother had to work on the weekends and holidays. But there was another side of my mother. My mother had friends, she went out, she drank, and had a good time. She had boyfriends, some nice some not so nice, there were fights and breakups.
When my parents divorced there was an order that my father would have visitation rights every other weekend. My mother’s “Court Order Rules” were completely different. If my father wasn’t following her “Rules” or playing her “game” then our visitations with our father ended. Life was good when it was on my mother’s terms. Us kids didn’t have to hear all the yelling, fighting, blaming, finger-pointing, the list never ends. Life was hell when her “Rules” weren’t in play. It was us kids who missed out on those weekends with our father, or half-siblings, beginning with our stepmother, learning to bowl, play baseball, vacations to Florida, holidays, and just to spend a day with our father. I can’t tell you what my father did for a living, except his bowled on a league, he belonged to a lodge, he worked for Gibson Greeting Card, he listened to country music, (he thought he could sign, not that I can), he would make wisecracks and he drank. But he never really knew what went on behind those English Wood doors, those Mirror Copy Cat Buildings.
When I met my husband, and we began to share our childhood and family members, he was shocked to learn about my life. To him, it was a horror story, one that I’ve always been told I should write a book. I joke all the time saying, “I would be a millionaire if I were to do that.” My husband’s parents were so strange to me. Why were they holding hands, saying I love you, have a nice day, wanting to help others, spending time with other family members, sharing holidays, and going to Church? I didn’t understand why weren’t the trust issues, why weren’t there any yelling, fighting, blaming, and breakups? What was the Church thing all about? Who went to Church because we didn’t, only on Christmas, or when I was visiting my grandmother or that lovely Vacation Bible School. (My mother would dress me and my two best friends in the same ugly dress every Sunday for Vacation Bible School). I was even more shocked when, his parents hugged me, told me they loved me, included me in family gatherings, EXCEPTED me for me. Not for what I had been molded to be while growing up.
As my relationship with my boyfriend now husband grew, I began going to church with his family, helping on the family farm, staying more and more at his house rather than mine, and learning a different way of life. One that has changed me from a jigsaw puzzle with a piece from every horrible memory while I was a child. Those horrible pieces have now been transformed into hopeful, blessed pieces as wife, mother, daughter, sister, niece, aunt and friend (which I have few friends because of trust). My husband, who is my partner and crime, my best friend, my hero, my knight have been married 30 years and trust is still something I struggle with. Not with my husband but, myself. As soon as I notice something of the norm, it sends my mind into overdrive, a Nascar on the last lap, going faster and faster. At every turn, I’m looking for some else to be wrong, something that I can point fingers at, something out of place, to yell, scream, cry and even run from. I have to remind myself, he loves me for who I am, he loves me for all the struggles I have each day, he loves me for being true to myself, he loves me because, I will go out on the limb to help others, and he loves me because his parents installed him, that God takes care of everything. That we have to Trust in God. His parents have helped me to trust God, to trust myself, and to gain trust in others. Most of all they have been more of my PARENTS than my OWN Parents!! They are my Mom and Dad, God moved me to Indiana to find my true Family.
I want to remind each of you the awesome deals you can get when the sale items are going to change. For me, I shop my local Krogers store. Every Tuesday at midnight the ad will change for the following week. On Tuesday’s at my Krogers, here in Indiana, I have found that prices are reduced for quick sales to move merchandise for new sale items.
***Dairy department, There are items reduced in the dairy department also. Which I do not buy those until I’m planning to use them right away.
***Produce department Look for those slightly bruised fruits and the salads that their expiration dates are approaching soon. I buy most of my apples and oranges in the reduce bins. I was able to purchase five apples for ninety-nine cents. Depending on the number of potatoes, onions, and bell peppers I have at home will be if I but from the reduced bin. I have found stir fry bags for two dollars and ninety-nine cents that were four dollars and ninety-nine cents. I found this Pasta Kit for one dollar and ninety-nine cents it serves two.
***Bread department Has a stand where they place the reduced bread, doughnuts, and snack cakes. I was able to grab these buns for ninety-nine cents. I have bought doughnuts and snack cakes from this stand.
***Meat department The meat department is reducing prices to rotate meat that is to expire soon.
***Eight pork chops, for seven dollars and fifty-one cents. That is four meals for my husband and me.
***Three Pork Bottom Steaks for five dollars and eighty-five cents. I plan to cute these into strips for meals.
***Three Beef Center Steaks for six dollars and three cents. Again I will cut these into strips for meals.
I’m a saver, but I have a dear friend who is a member of this group, which is also my neighbor, who is the lady of savings and cutting cost. She’s a true inspiration to me. She’s fought her battles and has shown lots of women and families if you put your mind to it, anything is possible. Which I’m still working on myself.
I do hope to share her lessons, information, and idea’s with the group someday.
You’ll need 1 large mixing bowl 1 Large Cooking sheet 1 Cooking board 1 Sharp knife 1 Potato peeler 1 Glass casserole dish Something to stir with Tongs
4 peeled potatoes 1 medium size onion peeled and sliced 3 tablespoons of Olive oil 2 Fish Fillets (depends on how many you’re cooking for) Salt and Pepper Seasoning Salt Garlic Salt Ground Paprika Fresh Chives Fresh parsley Fresh Cilantro Ketchup Tarter Sauce Pam Spray for the cookie sheet and the glass casserole dish
Wash, potatoes, bell pepper, cherry tomatoes, cauliflower and dry. Peel potatoes and slice them placing into the large mixing bowl. Take all seeds out of the bell pepper, slice and place into the large mixing bowl. Slice onion and put in the large mixing bowl with potatoes and pepper. add the olive oil, all the seasonings and herbs stir making sure everything is covered with the seasonings. Spray the cookie sheet and the glass casserole dish. Pour the Potato mixture onto cookie sheet, spreading out to cover the bottom of the cookie sheet. Put into oven cook for 10 minutes, then stir, and cook until potatoes are soft and crispy. In the Pam sprayed the glass casserole dish add the fish fillets cook as directed on package.
Toss salad Add all ingredients and top with Cheese and Dressing.
You’ll need Large bowl, cookie sheet, glass casserole dish, cutting board, knife, potato peeler, foil, and something to stir with.
Set oven at 375 you will cook to your desirer.
Ingredients: 2 Filet Mignon’s wrapped in bacon (I bought these already prepped) 2 medium-size sweet potatoes washed, dried and peeled and sliced 1 medium size onion peeled and sliced 1 Green Bell Pepper washed, dried, seeds removed and sliced. 1 Red Bell Pepper washed, dried, seeds removed and sliced. 2 Good tablespoons of Olive Oil Seasoning salt Salt and pepper Garlic salt Ground Paprika Fresh Clives Fresh Parsley Fresh Cilantro Pam Spray to spray the bottom of the glass Casserole dish and cookie sheet.
Steps: In the large bowl add the sliced sweet potatoes, sliced onions, sliced bell peppers, all the seasonings and olive oil (I do not measure these). Stir making sure everything is covered with seasonings. Spray cookie sheet, spread mixture in the large bowl on cookie sheet. Spray glass casserole dish, placing the Filet Mignon in with foil to cover. 10 minutes check on the potato mixture and stir making sure all sides are cooked.
Total Cost for this Meal was Five Dollars per plate.