Sad Truths

A series of illustrated self-care attempts; a list of imperfect coping strategies inspired by the book, “More Misery,” by Suzanne Heller.

Suzanne Heller calls out humor in childhood miseries, but let’s be honest adults forget about their chocolate too.

Before moving abroad, I wrote down a list of goals to refer back to when I was having a bad day or felt too overwhelmed.

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Goal: Write down one positive thing a day.

Reality: I washed my underwear, that’s positive right?

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Goal: Go outside once a day

Reality: I opened the door and thought about it.

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Goal: Learn to cook

Reality: Why can’t I cook rice properly?

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Goal: Write a to do list for the next day

Reality: I am less productive than I think I am

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Goal: Read more

Reality: Reading on the bus makes me feel nauseous

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Goal: Exercise

Reality: Running with Sir-Poop-A-Lot means more stopping than starting

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Goal: Socialize at least once a week.

Reality: I spoke with the cashier.

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Goal: Clean the house

Reality: Muddy footprints always appear right after I sweep and mop.

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Goal: Listen to music

Reality: Wallow in sadness while listening to sad songs

Truthfully, everyone suffers with different types of sadness for a variety of reasons. For me, this list of goals, albeit trial and error, sometimes helps. When my expectations are not my reality, laughing at myself helps too.

Let’s Talk About Mental Health also shares honest stories from around the world in an effort to alter stigmas associated with mental health issues.

What do you do to feel better?

Expat Living

Let me just start by stating the obvious, living in a country with three main languages, non of which you speak, means that you are predictably going to make many mistakes. I frequently have to remind myself that failure is the best way to learn. In an effort to make the most of my circumstances, I have illustrated a collection of humiliating expat experiences for you to visualize and share in my laughter.

My neighbor (who primarily speaks Luxembourgish) was very concerned that I was using the bushes that divide our backyards as a backdrop. Let’s just say, I have very attentive neighbors.

*Disclosure: Not all of these are my own experiences & for the benefit of others they will remain anonymous. Also, don’t drink any liquids and read these.

Visiting the Eye Doctor

From my recent experience of visiting doctor’s offices (from general practitioner’s, to medical clinic’s or veterinarian’s offices), the doors aren’t always labeled and it’s not always clear where you need to go. I’ll admit, I’ve sat in the wrong room or opened the wrong door. However, I’ve never gone to the wrong building or entered someone else’s private residence.

Although, I think it’s safe to say if you are going to see an ophthalmologist, you most likely don’t have the best eye sight. So it might be a common mistake to walk into and up the stairs of the poor stranger’s home that is inconveniently located next to the eye doctor’s office. Well, that’s what happened to a person I’m going to call Stuart. Let’s just say doors were locked after Stuart left.

Mange une pomme

I recently signed up to take a French class. People have asked me how do you decide which of the three main languages to learn. To me, it makes the most sense to begin with French, because it is used most frequently in official documents and in restaurants and grocery stores. One of the requirements to register for a class at the Institut National Des Langues is to take a test and make an appointment.

I took the test online, which proved I am a beginner. It didn’t occur to me that the appointment would also require me to speak French. When I was asked to describe myself, I froze. I get nervous and embarrassed attempting to pronounce French in public or to a fluent speaker. All that came to mind was, “Je mange une pomme,” (I eat an apple).

I’ll explain. While I have been waiting to enroll in a class, I’ve been trying to teach myself French with a free language app called Duolingo. The first few lessons on the app only talk about f@#*ing apples and oranges. I guess it works, because in a panic - it was apples that came to my mind.

Paying Bills

Getting my mail makes me anxious. I get nervous when I see envelopes that are addressed from Le Government Du Grand-Duché de Luxembourg. Trying to decipher my bills from French to English is my least favorite.

I also have to pay more attention to dates. When you initially make the mistake of reading 2/1/19 as February 1st instead of January 2nd then you have to translate more documents that begin with "rappel de paiement."

Mystery Meat

By the way, majority of these stories have to deal with food. I thought that if I went to Ikea, a familiar place, I would be able to order and receive the food I actually wanted.

Well, think again. What I thought were the standard Swedish meat balls were in fact, fish balls.

Do you have any idea what you want?

In another attempt at ordering food, this time at the the local butcher, I worked up the courage to memorize a phrase in French. I had just received some of my old recipe books and wanted to make a stew.

When I got up to the counter, I asked, “Une coupe de lampe s'il vous plait.” She looked at me strangely and repeated what I said in a surprised voice. I looked up to see what she was pointing to and realized, I had misspelled lamb as lamp in my google translate app.


Un chapeau s'il vous plaît

Then there are times when you just have to get creative. You realize ahead of time that “a top” is “un haut” in French. You know that you are incapable of producing the correct sounds to audibly pronounce the word you need, so you try something different.

For example, you try “ un chapeau pour mon café s'il vous plait.” Tops are really just hats for coffees, right? In hindsight maybe trying to translate the word “lid,” might have been another good solution.

What is the French version of Campbell’s Soup?

Trying to cook the same meals I used to make in the USA can be challenging. You can’t find ground turkey. You also cannot find cream of chicken.

I didn’t expect to find Campbell’s Soup at the grocery store, but I thought I might find a substitute. Google translate told me to ask for “créme de poulet.”

I don’t think I will ever be able to get the sound of the man’s voice out of my head…"créme de poulet?” “Tu veux de la crème de poulet, crème de POULET??”

The first attempt at making my own version of cream of chicken for my husband’s favorite casserole, went horribly. I am going to attempt to try it again for Valentine’s Day. This can only go one of two ways.