Pumpkin Skillet Cake with Caramel Crackle Icing
Maybe it's you: maybe managing your mental illness makes you feel alone even when you're surrounded by other people. Nobody's experience is quite like yours. Maybe it's your friend or family member: maybe from your point of view, they never seem to get it together.
According to the 2013 National Survey on Drug Use and Health, 1 out of every 5 adults has a mental illness and 1 out of every 24 adults has a serious mental illness (i.e., one that significantly interferes with one or more major life activities). Personally, I deal with a fun confluence of several mental illnesses and I wish people understood that my daily life and experiences are different from theirs. People tend to evaluate things through their own personal lens without realizing they're doing so, which is dangerous in all kinds of ways. Pondering this made me want to ask you all on Facebook what you wish people knew about mental illness, and here's what was said:
Pumpkin Pie Shortbread Bars with Maple Cinnamon Whipped Cream
I love pumpkin so much that it's basically my husband, but honestly? I don't get pumpkin pie. What's with that stuff? There's always way too much custard to taste any crust. And the crust is usually just a soggy mess anyway. The whipped cream is always a tragically tiny dollop. And this is a Thanksgiving staple? It's just sad.
So I fixed it for you.
Chile Baked Salmon with Lime Butter
In case you've never experienced social anxiety, here's a handy snapshot of it:
While I place my order for a sandwich at my local coffee shop, I make eye contact with the cashier to be polite. The eye contact flusters me, though, so I immediately look down and pretend my wallet is very interesting. The counter next to me is also intriguing. The floor is simply fascinating.
While the cashier scans my card, I worry about whether or not my face looks weird and whether or not I’m doing the right thing with my hands. What’s the right thing to do with your hands? I don’t know, but probably not whatever I’m doing. I shuffle them every few seconds to try to increase the likelihood that they’ll be doing the right thing whenever someone glances. Or, wait, does that decrease the likelihood? I stop shuffling. I start again.
Once my order is placed, I sit down in a booth with a sigh of relief and wait for them to call my name when my sandwich is ready. But something is bothering me. I’m a little deaf and it’s kind of loud in here. What if I can't hear them call my name? My brain conveniently replays a full technicolor memory of a time I did miss my name being called at a restaurant and was snarked at, which made me want to melt into a storm drain and live out the rest of my life as the inconspicuous layer of sewer scum that I apparently was. So that was pleasant.