Blueberry Basil Gelato [Recipe]

     
      So I've been gone from the blog for a bit, life's been somewhat hectic, and I was beginning to feel myself getting into a kind of slump. Though, it wasn't the usual sort of slump that I typically find myself falling into; this one has been much more circumstantial, and heavily influenced by factors that are mostly uncontrollable for me. With forces somewhat out of my control, I started finding it more and more difficult to keep up with healthy eating habits. I've never really enjoyed the thought of myself as a perfectionist in any way, but I most definitely like to think that, as a mother, I'm capable of feeding myself and my child the best I can. I'm absolutely certain that no one likes to think of themselves as sub par, particularly us parents. Not to say that I've been a horrible mother in any way, but times have definitely been tough for me lately, and I've sort of just been trucking through it with all my might. No one's life is perfect all the time, or even most of the time, but I'm not going to quit being me, or doing what I love, and what helps me feel my best, which in turn makes me the best mother that I can be. It's been hard, but I'm still trying.

      Recently I've been focusing on smaller goals. I realized a pattern, that when I attempt to focus on eating as perfectly as I can all of the time, I tend to have much harder falls. Eating to 'perfection' all of the time, while dealing with any kind of illness or even just life's normal daily struggles, can become a fairly daunting task. At least that's what I've found to be true. I've been aware of this issue for quite a while, while almost subconsciously pushing it aside. It's taken me an extremely long time to truly accept this, but in doing so I'm starting to realize that I'm actually a lot more successful at staying balanced, and maintaining a real groove in my lifestyle patterns when I take on a challenge bit by bit. So am I currently eating as well as I'd like to be? No, and everyday is different, but I'm definitely on the right track to getting back into my groove.



      A lot of my time is spent thinking about snacks, not only because I'm just a foodaholic, but also because, as most parents know, it can be tricky getting a toddler to eat a consistently balanced diet. One day my daughter will only want to eat blueberries and avocados, and for a week straight she may be on a never ending quest to load up on carbs. Often times snacks can be the most difficult meals of the day, because almost all snack foods you find in stores are incredibly processed, with lots of additives, preservetives, unhealthy oils, and sugar. It really seems like the only way to provide truly healthy snacks are to make everything from scratch, but not many people have the time for it. There are tons of foods which I do make from scratch, and a lot of them can be really time consuming to make, so when I find something that's not only super tasty, extremely healthy, but incredibly simple to make as well, I know I've got a real keeper.

      It was while we were at the farmers market about two weeks ago, when as we were leaving, one of the vendors offered my daughter a taste of gelato. I asked if she had anything vegan, and she did, it was a sorbet. Blueberry basil sorbet, which I thought seemed like an odd, yet interesting flavor combination. My daughter and I both loved it! A couple of the ingredients were questionable though, and it contained loads of sugar, so it wasn't something I would want us eating regularly. Before we even made it back home my mind was already spinning with ideas on how I could create something similar, but better; something even more like a real gelato, with that same great flavor, only healthier. Bananas seemed to be the logical conclusion. Banana "nice cream" is pretty big right now, and for good reason, it's always delicious. Though I wasn't entirely certain that bananas would work for this, mainly because I really didn't want a strong banana flavor, which you can often get with "nice creams." So I tinkered with the recipe in my head for a bit, then gave it a go, and it was a huge hit the first try! I've made it at least three times in the past two weeks, it's just so yummy, and if my 3 year old loves it too then I'm a really happy camper.

Blueberry Basil Gelato

 

Ingredients (serves 2):

- 2 large ripe Bananas

- about 5 ounces, or one small Mango

- about 1/2 to 3/4 pint fresh Blueberries

- 6 to 10 fresh Basil leaves, depending on how strong of a flavor you like

 

Method:

- First slice your bananas and mango into chunks, place them in ziplock bags and freeze, or you can always use pre-frozen mango like I did.

- Once they're frozen solid you can place them into your food processor, and process until it just begins to start getting creamy. First you'll see it turn into crumbles, and you may need to stop your machine to help press everything down.

 

 

 

 

 

- Once it begins to get creamy you can add your blueberries and basil, and continue processing.

 

 

 

 

- Blend until you've reached your desired consistency, though be careful not to over process it, as it can become too watery. But if that does happen all you have to do is pop your mixture into the freezer for a little while, and it'll get right back to where you want it.

 

 

 







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Working My Way Back To Normal

      I say "normal," but in all honesty I'm still not entirely sure what that means. Do any of us? I'm nearly 25, I've been "abnormal" for the better part of my life, two decades, and I still can't even begin to fathom how my own mind is supposed to function; what it means to be like everybody else. The good news, I think, is that even most normal people feel the same way that I do at some point in their lives...at least I think.

I remember being in kindergarten, we only had half days in our school, and I had been in preschool before so it wasn't an entirely new experience. At that time our bathrooms were in the classrooms, but they were single bathrooms. I distinctly remember the all encompassing fear that I felt just contemplating having to close the door. The mere idea of it terrified me, I obsessed over it throughout the day, praying that I wouldn't feel that uncomfortable fullness indicating my need to go. Barely able to focus at my desk, my daydreams were consumed with every illogical, and unlikely event that could possibly take place, fearing my life would end. I'd look out of the windows for some reassurance, only to be thrust further into a state of terror, thinking that the oddly shaped clouds in the sky were asteroids on a collision course with earth. Everywhere I turned there was some hidden threat, lingering in the shadows just hoping for me to find them. In my mind there were lines on the grounds where I walked, borders which indicated "safe" or "dangerous zones," where I could or could not walk. Though the consequences of stepping into an unsafe area I wasn't entirely clear on, but I was certain death in some manner would be imminent. I was five years old.

Those are some of my first experiences where I can remember thinking, "Why can't I be like everybody else? Why can't I be normal?" Surely none of my peers minds were scrambling in panic the way mine always was.

I've repeated those phrases in my head, begrudgingly shouted these questions more times than I care to remember. I was afraid of everything, simply being away from my mother for any amount of time was a source of infinite anxiety, enough to send me into a tailspin of sheer terror. I was barely school aged, and having full blown meltdowns, panic attacks, on a regular basis. My mother was called to pick me up from school more times than either of us can count. I'm certain that at this time most of the adults around me probably believed that I was just high maintenance. When I finally had the opportunity to meet my first therapist at age 6, 

she told my mother that I was "attention seeking," and to "just ignore her."

      It may be silly, or childish, but I still hold a sort of resentment towards this woman for the years of needless suffering I endured, when it was her job to help me. It took nearly 10 years to finally be given a diagnoses, though it has evolved over time, Obsessive Compulsive with psychotic tendencies. Little did I know that my aunt was dealing with Schizophrenia at the same time. Mental illnesses tend to do that, stay in the family. As I got older I realized that I had been doomed from the get-go; every single woman in my family suffered with varying degrees of anxiety disorders. Apparently, I just happened to have landed with the worst case out of everyone. Lucky me.

Me, age 7

I think the one thing that all people dealing with mental illness understand is that there will always be both good and bad days, and our illnesses can tend to follow somewhat of a cyclical pattern. There's a very fine line that you balance on daily, and any small change or disturbance could potentially send you tumbling 50 feet down into a black hole of worry and confusion, scrambling once again to gain your footing so you can attempt to begin the long and arduous journey back up to your balance beam.

      This is the strange, and oddly comfortable limbo that I've found myself in over the past few months. Sometimes I only begin to regain my footing on the ground before stumbling again. Other times I feel as if I've finally made my way back up, not quite so sturdily perched upon my balance beam, before being abruptly thrown off once more. My tumble downward isn't always a surprise, nor is it always quick. There are times when I can see the decline as it begins, while it's taking place, I often feel powerless to stop it. Almost as if I'm not actually a part of myself, but some spectator forced to watch the madness.

Other times the downfall is so abrupt that it's as if I've been struck by lightening on a sunny day. 

So here I am again, somewhere in the in between stages of trying to crawl my way up. I've been gone from the blog for quite a while now, and the simple truth is that when I originally set out to create a blog I had this immaculate vision in my mind of myself as this put together, adult woman, someone that had fought through their personal struggles but had come out on the other side unscathed. I wanted to be the person who could give advice, who could be looked up to, a person who had it all figured out.

But now I'm okay with admitting that that's just not me, and perhaps never will be. 

Though I want to be clear, I am not trying to disparage myself, or be self deprecating in any way. None of what I've said is a bad thing really. I'm finally getting to a point where I'm okay acknowledging all aspects of myself. I'm at a place now where I respect that this is going to be a lifelong journey for me. There won't ever really be an "other side" to come out on. This is my life, an experience in learning, and in that way, starting this blog has actually been a really wonderful thing. It's beginning to feel like a sort of catharsis, which is what I needed most whether I wanted to admit it or not. This is now providing another tool to help me analyze things from a different angle. 

      So I may not be able to offer up all of the answers, or any. But what I can offer are my experiences, I can offer my journey trying to navigate through all of life's turbulence, and hopefully I can offer someone the comfort of knowing that they're not alone. I know that would've been incredibly helpful to me in the beginning, and probably now more than ever. Because the truth is that I feel alone,

ISOLATED,

and unable to connect with other humans on any sort of meaningful level. I feel different than others, I do feel strange, in a sort of ostracized environment, perhaps of my own making. But I need to reach out, even if it is in the most passive sort of way, essentially anonymous, but it's a step. 

Still to this day, after having dealt with mental illness for twenty-some odd years, I've yet to find anyone that can relate in this way. So perhaps now, through this blog, I'm trying to connect, to something. Maybe you're reading it looking for the same, or maybe you were just in search of some tasty plant based recipes. All I can say is that from here on out 

I am not going to attempt to be anything, I'm just going to be.

I need to shed all of my layers, peel off the callouses I've worked so tirelessly to try and hide. Talking about mental illness is a difficult thing to do, which is probably why it's taken me so long to finally get started. It's terrifying, I am terrified. The stigma surrounding these types of illnesses are very real, they run deep, and I experience it from others on a nearly daily basis. My own family, as loving and close as we are, still have no idea how to even begin to handle it, or what to really think about it. Though I'm coming to the conclusion that the best thing I can do for everyone is to just open up, at this point it's a necessity, otherwise I may drown in my stagnation. 

So where do we go from here?

     Well I am most definitely still going to be focusing on holistic health, since that's such a huge part of who I am, and dealing with mental illness is what brought me to this place in my life. I will absolutely be posting recipes that I'm trying out, because I do love food quite a lot, and you can't be healthy without providing your body the necessary building blocks.

But first and foremost I want this blog to naturally evolve into a place where I can share my daily struggles, or my daily triumphs. A place where I can both laugh and cry, and talk about all of the wistful meanderings of my mind, while also discussing methods that I'm using to try and better myself and my situation. I want this blog to be a place where I can express all of the intricacies of life, so that's where I'll be taking this, starting with this post right now.

Consider ourselves reborn.

 
                                                       

                                                                   

Please feel free to come follow me on Instagram for random tidbits, updates, whimsical musings, but most of all mouth watering food porn. Light & Love xoxo  Antonia