Dinner is rice porridge, “arroz con leche” like my mom used to make for me when I was a kid, inspired (I believe) by her travels in Mexico and Guatemala as a young adult. This time it’s soy milk, and honestly it might have been soy milk then as well. Also cinnamon, almonds, dates, raisins, honey and peanut butter.
This is my second night having this for dinner. Last night it just felt right, so I’m doing it again. I’ve been underweight so I’m trying to lay on the calories. Somehow this dish seems to do it. Really I need comfort food. I’m going on to my fifth consecutive year of very nearly consistent burnout, and … let’s say I am to the ^n^th degree of diversifying my methods. I’m coming at it from all angles now, and the missing pieces are psychological and neurological wisdom, met with lived experience.
I seek dimensionality, and I achieve it. Sometimes.
Other times I can barely keep my mouth clean, but by this time in my life, I’ve been through this enough times to know the fog is temporary, it will lift. I will become a functional human being again, but right now, it’s taking significant effort to type these words…