6 Months of Pants

So about 6 months ago I made what seemed like a huge decision... after about 14 years of only wearing skirts, I decided to wear pants again.  It was a pretty non-dramatic decision for me, but the reactions of other people... well... that was a different story.  The women of my church wore pants, but my mother-in-law and all the women at the church I attended in my old town still wore skirts.  I knew my decision would hurt them, but I can't live my life for other people... so I did what I thought was right, and wore feminine pants with longer shirts.  Surprisingly, I got very little negative feedback when I "came out" on FB and announced I was wearing pants, but that was probably because I scared everyone away from making either positive OR negative comments. Or so I thought... until a week or two ago I started to realize that a lot of people had missed the announcement. 

I was back at square one, waiting to be rejected again.  I play tough with my no-nonsense approach on FB to politics and controversy... but in reality I'm sensitive, and being rejected hurts like hell.  I would do almost anything to avoid rejection... I even, in moments of weakness, wanted to go back to wearing skirts just to be accepted.  Now, I'm not saying I will never go back to wearing skirts... but if I do, I want to go back for the right reasons.  I want to go back because I think it's right, not because I want people to accept me.  I crave acceptance like crack, and putting myself in a position where I allow that need to change how I live my life is dangerous beyond belief. I want to be perfect, and I want everyone to love me... but what kind of person only loves me if I am their idea of perfect?  It reminds me of a song I used to listen to back in my "emo before it was cool" days... Alainis Morisette sang a song that said "I'll love you... just the way that you are... if you're perfect." 

I want to do the right things for the right reasons... but I want to be loved and feel like I belong somewhere so badly right now. I make a commitment here, today, in front of whoever does or doesn't read this, that I will not conform simply to be accepted by others. I will do what is right for the right reasons, even if that means I stand alone. 

Shoarma! Or is it Showarma? Shawarma? Shwarma?

However the heck you spell it, it is one very delicious food! 

Now, the version I make is kind of strange, because it is my American take on an Arabic take on a food that I think was originally Dutch? Yeah.  So it is not your run-of-the-mill shoarma.  More like... traditional Shoarma met Indian spices, had a baby, and wrapped it in a Mexican tortilla.

So how does one make such a lovely thing? Well, let me tell you.

First, you dice and cook a chicken breast or two (or three, or four, or whatever floats your boat) with salt, pepper, curry powder, coriander, garlic, onion, and a little bit of cumin.  I can't tell you the amounts, you just kind of have to season it until it tastes good to you.  Be careful with the corriander though, that stuff is powerful!

Next, you need to fry or bake some french fries.

 Grab some tortillas (they have to be flour, I think, but not necessarily this brand or size.)

 Optional: Cut up some pickle spears into very very very thin strips.

 Get some Cream Cheese spread, and either soften it by leaving it out a while, or microwave it a few seconds.

Organize your shoarma station as follows: Tortillas, cream cheese, chicken, fries, and then pickles if desired.

 Now the fun begins!!!!!

Spreak some cream cheese in a line on the right side of the tortilla.  Put pieces of chicken in a neat little line on the cream cheese.

Now add some french fries on each side of the chicken.

If you are a pickle kind of person, toss two pickle  strips on the line too! (I am NOT a pickle kind of person, lol so I left that out of mine.)

Now rol the tortilla up as small as you can!

Put him on a cookie sheet with his little friends, until you are ready to cook him.

Now, at this point, you have two options.  You can either cook these on a griddle, or on a George Foreman grill.  For a griddle, you just have to put the shoarmas down on the heated griddle (sprayed with PAM first?) and brown them on the top and bottom. With the George Foreman grill, you just put them in, put the lid down, and wait for them to be browned.

When they look like this on the top, take them out, wait for them to cool down a little, and then enjoy!!

On a side note, I recommend chatting with friends and listening to tunes by Elvis during this process!!

You can also freeze these in a ziploc bag for later.  We do this a lot, since we don't have time to cook breakfasts or lunches during the school year.

Emulation

Today I was reading an article in preparation for a social work paper... and came across this quote:

"Moreover, children directly witnessed 85% of all assaults made aginst their mothers... These children were often seen emulating violent behaviours through actions such as punching and/or strangling the household pet." 

I should feel comforted by this... I should feel comforted to know that when I abused our pets as a child, and when I verbally abused my mother, that this was just a reaction to what was happening in our family.  My mother made a choice to expose me to that lifestyle, and to the violence in it. 

All of my life, until about the last 4 years, I had blamed myself entirely for my abuse of my mother.  I was a demon, and she was an angel. She was innocent, and I was voilent against her.  A few years ago a friend pointed out that my mother had a role in this too.  She allowed me to see the abuse. She allowed me to be abused. She allowed me to be in a situation that potentially could have caused my death. 
I still can't grasp it.  I still see myself as the evil child, the monster, who became the object of her fear. I remember myself kicking the puppies we had, because I was just wanted them to hurt. I told myself I was punishing them, teaching them not to walk under people's feet... I remember waiting until the children I babysat misbehaved, because I wanted to punish them. In retrospect, I probably just wanted for once to be in control, to have power over someone else for a change.  

I still keep a distance between myself and anything too small, too powerless, too abuseable... because I still see that monster when I look in the mirror.

I put up a wall

No one can get too close

I am an abuser

I will hurt you

I keep everyone at arms length

I push you away

Don't you see who I am?

Don't you know what I can do?

I curl up in a ball inside
I withdraw
It's safer for everyone

if I just stay alone