The Discomfort of Happiness

I certainly don’t want to turn this blog into a personal journal about the trials and tribulations of my mental defects, even though it’s kind of what this blog has been. It’s supposed to be about being a chef, and all the things that go along with it, and that as I have learned is a big part of it.

I have discovered since my last post that there are a significant number of chefs locally that are experiencing or have experienced similar issues. I have received multiple notes from them outlining their experiences with depression.

I hesitate to use the term mental illness only because I think of people who have far worse problems than I do that have little chance of ever leading a normal and productive life.  Me? I’ll be fine.G

The restaurant property at 62 Beekman St. in Saratoga is available.  I kind of want it, I kind of don’t. I’m just not sure I’m ready for that right now.

We have a dog now. I love dogs. The dog will be good for me. She has taken a real liking to me. She’s my friend.

I’ve had difficulty in my life maintaining long-term relationships of many kinds.

You should go to Mio Posto in Albany.

Continuing my bit from a previous post naming people on my Facebook friends list I’d like to spend a day cooking with: Greg Kern because he’s a brilliant baker and pastry chef, and I need to improve those skills, and because he gets it. Jennifer Hewes, because I haven’t cooked with her in a long time.  Brian Malone I recall his genuine appreciation for good food and coo king and I’d love to reminisce about old times. Al Woodard, then we’d be grubbin’ on a Sunday, and because Al is about the nicest person I’ve ever known.

Perhaps it’s odd  that for the few days since writing my last post The Not-So-Great Depression I’ve really felt down.  I was exhausted after writing the bulk of the text in one sitting and I think I’m feeling some real cleansing effects from that exercise and will snap back in a day or two.  Some sunshine would help.

I see my therapist tomorrow morning.  As I entered his office for the first time he said I should sit wherever I was comfortable and my only concern was what will he be thinking about my choice, what will it tell him about me?  I sat in his desk chair.

I got myself some new eye glasses that are blue and match my eyes nicely. They are the pair I wanted last time but was hesitant.  I’m happy with my purchase.  The moral of the story: If you want blue glasses, then damn it, get blue glasses.  They’re also my first pair of bifocals.

I had a full hearing evaluation this week, If you want me to hear you speak into my right ear and avoid a whiny voice, like an Ed Sheeran song.  I have no Idea who Ed Sheeran is, I asked Jennifer to name one of those whiny-douchey male singers that seem to be on the radio these days.

I often don’t know what the Hell I want, but I’m getting closer to figuring it out.  I know I want to cook, I just don’t know the venue.

I suspect that when I cook again it will be better than ever.

Sometimes I just want to be left alone, sometimes I’m lonely.

Enough about me, tell me something about yourself.

If I haven’t said thank you to anyone for the kind notes of support, then I’m saying it now.  A lot of people have told me what courage it took for me to write and publish my last post.  Perhaps, but the real courage comes from finally admitting the problem to yourself.  If you’re feeling like things haven’t been right then talk to someone who can help or that can point you in the right direction.  Be your on hero.






One thought on “The Discomfort of Happiness

  1. I have two depressive episodes since the 90’s. The last and most significant strung me out from 4/13 through 2/15. I lost most of my sense of smell and taste which further bummed me out. I lost 30 lbs. The smell & taste came back twice for a few days and then disappeared. My long time best friend and spouse stood by me all the way. We lost our 12 yr old French bulldog Aldo in June 2013. In the winter of 2014-2015 my dreams depicted liberation but I was still down. My therapist could not understand why I was still wallowing in the mire. He said there must be a blockage of some kind. Then in February 2015, my depression lifted and my sense of smell and taste returned! I learned much about myself, smell, taste and the amygdala.


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