Goodbye Chef Tess. We Miss You Already.

 Where did Chef Tess go? 

I'm asking myself that question, 

and today I can say she's gone. 

 I threw all but one of my chef coats in the dumpster. You read that correctly.

 I moved out of state and didn't even tell my bishop or most of my friends where I was moving. 

Yup. That happened. 

She's gone. Perhaps forever...But I hope not.

If that's where some of you leave me, I hope you find peace in your lives and amazing food. I'll still post about food here, too, just not every post. I might not post again. I'm not sure what is ahead for me. I know I'm not who I was.

Three years ago, my health took a turn due to my brain tumor, and because of it, my life took a turn. Because of that, I've suffered immensely. I'm not going into details about it.  What did happen, however, left me with a profound psychological upheaval that triggered a psychotic break with a severe existential crisis. My doctors called it PTSD. As of this week, they still do.

 Nothing could have prepared me for it. I was left in extreme stress and isolation, and it overwhelmed my brain's ability to process reality. If you noted that my posts became more industrial and less humorous, that was the reason. I wasn't me. I'm still trying to find my way back to her. If admitting that makes you uncomfortable, imagine how it makes me feel. 

I've pushed myself beyond my own physical and emotional limits for the last thirty years, and it took everything I had to get here. I'm proud of the woman I am. I've faced some incredible odds and demons that most people will never see or understand in their lifetimes. I'm also heartbroken at how some things have ended and how some have chosen to see me in the end. That broke me too.

Happiness Isn't Always A Choice. There. I Said It.

I remember when I was pregnant with my sons, and I had morning sickness. I was sick every day. Every. Single. Day. Someone told me then that happiness was a choice and that I needed to look on the bright side of the sickness because, in the end, I would get a sweet baby. So, I hung a little baby outfit above the toilet. It was a gentle reminder to myself that it was temporary. Nine months. Three months if I was lucky. It helped me a ton. I really appreciated that advice then. 

I wouldn’t appreciate that advice as someone who has a brain tumor on top of the emotional and mental struggles I have now. I have constant physical pain. Pain that often leads me to extreme nausea. Often vomiting. Often not wanting to move an inch. In a recent conversation with a coworker who had received a significant promotion and left the job, the conversation ended with him saying off-handedly, “Happiness is a choice.” 

I wanted to vomit. Literally. The pain in my head and the mitigating circumstances of the last thirty years had left me with a bitter taste in my mouth surrounding that saying. He said this, “Happiness is a choice, “at the end of a conversation where he had been given a tremendous opportunity and got to choose to leave a situation and go to something better... and where I was facing the grimmest future I could foresee. One where my choices were clearly not mine. I don't think he actually saw it. To be honest, I didn't point it out to him because I was and still am truly happy that he got the opportunity. He had been a good friend and a good boss to me, and I will always be grateful to him for his kindness.

It just made me think. Why? 

Is happiness really a choice? Is it always? 

I'm going to say it. Happiness isn’t always a choice. Choices are not always ours to make. Yes. I get the “you can respond to the circumstances” thing. I get that. I choose to see all the good things in my life right now. I embrace the joy. I do. I see the good things. I know I have tremendous blessings. However, and this is big... Let’s not make light of the fact that people also have damn hard trials that they didn’t choose and that they are struggling! Allow them to be human, to struggle, and please be kind and acknowledge it!  I, for one, didn’t choose to have a brain tumor that would strip me of so many other equally significant and important personal choices. These things are so very hard. I’m not happy about them. I’m terrified. 

I don’t know what I will do for a career in the future or how I'll support my family. How can I possibly be happy about that choice being ripped from my fingers? Or not being able to choose where I would live or what I could afford based on my new finances. There are so many other factors that I can’t even go into at this point. Happy. No. Not happy. I’m not choosing to be happy. I'm trying, but I'm also struggling. I'm angry. I'm heartbroken. I'm so very sad. Maybe one day I will see the silver lining in all of it. It's okay to be sad, too. 

I'm tired of hiding that fact and pretending to be okay so everybody else feels comfortable. It almost killed me on several occasions.

Let’s normalize letting people have human responses to tragedy! 

Let’s let them have the stages of grief over a career loss. 

A loss in health that is unexpected. 

A loss is tragic to them. 

Let's not flippantly say…” happiness is a choice.” Shut up. Just freaking shut up. They know that. They don't need your bumper sticker advice when they are grieving. They deserve compassion when going through things you can't possibly comprehend. 

By all that is HOLY…Jesus would never… and I mean NEVER… have said that when someone was in such a state of loss. Who am I to judge that either? Maybe I’m too deep into this grief of my own that I can’t judge anything He would have said anymore. Or maybe it's in my grief that I actually do understand what He would say.

All I know is that this is the worst thing I’ve ever gone through. I am in my fifties and trying to figure out where I go from here. Combined with the loss of my dignity for having to explain it to judgmental, condemnatory people who didn't live through this. I’m just tired. There's really not much else to say except to just ask that y'all try to be kind. 

This is also where I'd like to gratefully acknowledge that there have been a few who haven't been flippant or forgotten me but have called every single day. A bishop who counseled me in love. A ministering sister who would just drop off fresh eggs from her chickens. Kindness of my sisters. My parents. Oh, my beautiful parents.  They have dropped off medicine and food without asking for anything in return. Gentle friendships and family members. I can never repay them for their unsolicited kindness. 

To those who never said "God won't give you what you can't handle..." but rather, just made sure I didn't have to walk through it alone. Thank you for being angels on earth. It has made a difference.

To those who may not have known...When someone has tragic news and doesn't bounce back as fast as you think they should, maybe just stop judging how fast you think they should heal and instead give them more grace. Healing isn't the same for everyone. There's no master scale for it. Not every brain is as resilient as the next. Yes. It's been three years. When am I going to get better? I have no idea.

If I have learned anything from this experience, it is that many people are pretty self-righteous about that. They judge from their own narrow lens. It's a lens they focus through the bright sun of their own views, and often burn down the lives of the less fortunate. I have experienced it firsthand, and it's ugly.

This is a long way of saying...

I miss Chef Tess. She was a version of me that did so many things, boldly, bravely, and with so much joy! And as I move forward into this new chapter, still cooking but also healing, I simply ask that you remember that I, too, am grieving the loss of her as a dear friend who was such a huge part of my life. Who knows, someday she may come home. In the meantime, she's far from here in a more peaceful place where she can recover and find happiness, too. Goodbye for now, dear friend. You aren't forgotten. 

There you go.

Trying to be my very best. 

Steph ( My nickname was once Chef Tess)