How I Found The Joy In Cooking After Struggling With An Eating Disorder

Since my childhood I have loved to cook. I remember begging my parents to sign up for cooking classes during the day and write down my mom's favorite recipes at night. Food has always held a special place in my heart and I value cooking as a means of connection and intimacy with friends, family and loved ones. But as a teenager, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, which made it really difficult for me to relate not just to the food, but to the entire process of preparing, preparing, and serving food.

I pretty much struggled with an eating disorder for about five years, but over the last half of the last decade I've been able to find joy in recovery and reconnect with my love of food and cooking.

I would like to point out that this is the happiest part of my personal story because I am here to share the pathways I have worked through in the latter part of my recovery journey. Over time, I've rediscovered my love for cooking, but recovering from eating disorders (ED) is a long, difficult, and arduous process, and I'm still struggling with many residual symptoms and health complications. While this article may offer comfort in your time of need, triggers may come.

If you or someone you know has an eating disorder, call the National Eating Disorders Information Center (NEDIC) toll-free at 1-866-633-4220.

Cooking is one of the hardest parts of recovery.

I've been trying to control many of my eating disorders, but to find joy, especially in the kitchen, you have to let go of the need for moderation. Because of this, and because cooking is closely related to the eating process, I have found cooking to be one of the most difficult parts of recovery. When I was at the peak of my eating disorder, I never thought I would let my fears into the kitchen, let alone write about the process.

Because cooking is so closely related to the eating process, I've found cooking to be one of the most difficult parts of my recovery.

I don't want to go into too much detail about what my relationship with food was like when I was at the height of my struggle, but when you're malnourished it's really hard to find the energy to cook. I didn't like to cook then and I didn't find love then. Since I was in a constant state of fatigue, it was not only easier but essential to grab something that was available in the fridge.

At the peak of my erectile dysfunction, cooking became a life-changing activity for me, but if I was to fall in love with a process so dear to me, I had to find ways to combine food with pleasure.

Surprisingly, the epidemic was an important part of my recovery process.

The epidemic brought many difficulties, but for me it brought something positive into my life. The pandemic played a key role in my recovery process, particularly in my relationship with the kitchen.

When I walked in with nothing to do, I started baking, baking, grilling, and roasting. I decided to try a new recipe once a week. These will not be old recipes; I cooked meals that lasted two to five hours. I started cooking outside of my comfort zone and learned new recipes to fill my time. From corn tortillas to handmade gnocchi to fried tofu rice, I make everything from scratch.

When I walked in with nothing to do, I started baking, baking, grilling, and roasting.

In doing so, I began to see cooking as an art form and no longer as a necessary and cumbersome way to nourish myself.

Learn to use food as a form of socialization.

As I started to immerse myself in the culinary world, I slowly learned to use it as a tool to connect with the people around me. During the pandemic, my roommate and I prepared processed foods and built a routine around the art of eating together. Every Sunday we woke up and spent an hour preparing a hearty breakfast together. When he was done we sat down, drank coffee, talked about our weeks and then watched a show. I found great solace in this process, which taught me to see food as a community activity, a time to connect with people and share stories.

Get rid of the fear of eating and cooking alone

After making the connection between the kitchen and the community, I realized I had to learn to rediscover the joy of cooking and eating.

It took me a long time to get comfortable with this, but I began to create a safe and gentle environment. With every meal I cooked and ate myself, I took my time not only preparing the food but also setting the mood by lighting candles, surrounding myself with books or activities, and introducing the aesthetics of the food. .

As I started to immerse myself in the culinary world, I slowly learned to use it as a tool to connect with the people around me.

At first, I started eating dinner, reading, writing, or watching a show while I ate, with a lot of distractions. But then, once I was settled, I slowly undressed and let dinner be an experience in itself. I taught her to eat mindfully and with purpose, to find the flavors that worked, to identify textures that didn't work, and to learn from those experiences.

I have learned that my journey has peaks and valleys.

Most importantly, reconnecting with the kitchen has taught me to recognize my own self-talk. Some days I didn't want to cook, and knowing that that was okay was a big step in the healing process. Over time I've learned to be kind to myself on the days I don't want to cook and to be proud of the days I do.

Even now there are days when I don't feel like being around and instead of despairing I listen to what I need and rest knowing there will be more days on the horizon , where cooking will inspire me again. .

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