Mental Health Day

Due to the unfortunate chain of events that happened last weekend (please refer to previous posts) and work frustrations, I headed the advice from some concerned friends to take a "mental health day". Aka play hooky from work (Technically it isn't playing hooky as I can use my PTO days any way I like, but it makes me sound more bad ass if I say it like that). For once, it was convenient timing where work didn't NEED me that day and I decided I deserved a day of "relaxation" to make up for the stressful Sunday. Most people would sit around in the pjs all day and watch Judge Judy or something to that effect in order to recharge

and gain back their mental health. I, on the other hand, decided to "bake my feelings".

The day started off alright. I only slept in a little (due to a horrid dream where I failed the math portion of the GRE...can you tell I'm worried?), made some coffee, and sat down to blog part two of my worst day ever tale.

I then made a grocery list and ran to the store to stock up on supplies. While cruising through the aisles, I decided that I don't make a real dinner enough (why would I when cereal is oh so delicious and convenient?). Lasagna popped into my head and I started picking up the

necessary ingredients. It had been some time since I baked a lasagna so I had to get a little help from my mom to make sure I wasn't forgetting anything. (I swear I always end up calling her

when I'm in the grocery story. It usually goes like this "Hi Mom, if you were bread crumbs,

where would you be hiding in the grocery store?").

After my adventure to the store, I went straight to the kitchen, put on my apron that Sarah cross stitched just for me and got to work. So far this story might seem like a pretty good mental health day. Coffee, writing, errands, and a little baking. You would be right if I was a sane person. But no, oh no, I am not. I can't just relax and make a little batch of cookies. I decide to jump off the high dive straight into the deep end of insanity.

I baked up a storm. Literally. You should have seen the kitchen.

It started off with lasagna. So I made the noodles, browned the meat, mixed the cheeses, chopped the parsley, layered it together and cooked it half way (I was saving it for the next day's dinner).

While this was going on, I was letting bread dough rise, because I decided to make 3 pans of cinnamon rolls. (Must have been an attempted to get back at Sunday when they were locked inside).

While the lasagna was in the oven, and the bread dough was rising, I whipped up some banana bread since my roommate, Emily, said I could have the bananas she bought.

And then sugar cookie dough.

And then I made the bread dough into yummy cinnamon rolls,

Let them rise,

and baked them.

Then I rolled out dozens of sugar cookies (using a portion of my dear cookie cutter collection).

I told you I was insane.

It was quite a balancing act in the kitchen. I was in the zone. Disaster zone? Maybe, but I didn't care. (Told you I'm bad ass).

Mid the manic bake fest, my friend Heather stopped by. As she was watching me buzz around the kitchen, she looked at me and asked "Are YOU OK?". My friends know me so well, and I think I scared her with my mental health day AND extreme bake mode turned on high.I assured her that I was really fine. I just needed to bake. And then that got me thinking, why do I bake so

much? Especially to deal with emotions? The obvious reason is the long line of amazing bakers in my family. Baking was something I grew up doing. (Literally, I just watched an old home movie where I was baking cookies when I was 3). But the reason I think I'm drawn to the kitchen during times of stress, is to block out the thinking. I'm concentrating on the recipe (sometimes defiantly straying) and creating something yummy and positive to put back out in

the world. I don't have time to let my brain over analyze everything. Because I do that...for

everything. It's so difficult to stop, unless I'm in the kitchen.

So although, it might have appeared that I went insane (and believe me I stopped midway and questioned myself as well - when I looked up and saw the pile of dishes),

I think I was really just getting it all out by forcing myself to shut off my mind for one day. My feet didn't get a break on the day off as they were standing on tile for 8 hours, but thankfully my brain did and that was exactly the point.

Because Heather is such a great friend, she brought some champagne to celebrate a day of Mental Health with me. So we toasted to dealing with the real world and sipped the bubbly as I rolled out the cookies and Heather documented the experience so artistically.

I pretended to throw a dough heart at her

Then she pretended to throw it back at me

Then she really did...

right down my shirt.

And then we laughed really hard.

So at the conclusion of my Mental Health day, I felt confident that I has put enough warm gooey positive things back out into the world to make up for my dark cloud days. I fed some warm treats to Heather and my roommates and in the morning sent off half of the baked goods to the Fiesta Bowl offices and took the other half to the Ballet for my colleagues. The compliments were more than generous and all was good in the world again...

...But just in case you were wondering, the dark cloud made an appearance as I was doing the dishes and I knocked over and subsequently broke a glass vase. (Darn you, dark cloud...)