Thank you for reading And Also, a weekly newsletter featuring personal stories and lesson plans to help you navigate life ✨!
I’m not a fan of online recipes. And not for the same reasons as everybody else — I actually love the long stories that lead up to the list of ingredients.
I’m not a fan of online recipes because even when they say they’re easy, even when they’re allegedly designed for beginners, they fail me.
I’m met with terms I’m not familiar with, foods I’ve never heard of, so-called “cooking tools” that I guess we’re all just supposed to have handy and know how to use properly?!
“I’m just trying to feed myself!” I want to scream at my computer screen. It feels so frustrating and overwhelming and embarrassing to not know how to naturally do this thing that everybody else seems to find so simple.
But I’ve never liked cooking. I never seemed to have time for it, too busy was I trying to rack up tangible achievements that I could use to populate my college applications and later my LinkedIn.
In my late teens and early twenties, my mom used to tell me, “You better hope you marry someone who can cook.” And I did.
I’ve been independent to a fault in my relationships, but being fed by my partners is one activity I’ve always acquiesced to. It felt good to pass off this time-consuming act of feeding myself, like a sigh of relief to let someone else take care of this one thing; as if I’d allowed for at least some intimacy by letting myself be cared for with cooking.
But then, when those partners would inevitably (and understandably) comment on my lack of culinary contribution — or worse, mock my seeming inability to make anything besides boxed macaroni and cheese, I’d retort: “I somehow kept myself alive before I met you.”
And again, I did. Yes, I’ve had the help of my mom and friends and partners (and restaurants and takeout) throughout the years, but I’ve kept my body running on my own too. I’ve kept myself alive and alert enough to do everything I wanted to do; to get every marker of external validation checked off my list.
The frustrating (she says only somewhat facetiously) thing is that, the older I’ve gotten, the more I want to do more than just keep myself alive.
I don’t want to thoughtlessly feed my body for the sake of getting it to do even more. I actually want to be in communication — in communion — with my body; so authentically attuned to my own needs and knowing that I not only know how to nourish myself, but I actually care to. I want to.
I’ve never really liked cooking, but the older I get, the more I realize that “learning how to cook” is not even where I need to start.
I actually want to be in communication — in communion — with my body; so authentically attuned to my own needs and knowing that I not only know how to nourish myself, but I actually care to.
Earlier this year, my therapist told me about the “internal mother”. I’m paraphrasing, of course, but she described it as the part of us that cares for us (or doesn’t) based on our experience or understanding of how we should be nurtured and guided.
At the time, I noted that I had a strong internal mother — no doubt because I witnessed the strength of my own mother growing up. I noted that my internal mother was ambitious and successful and driven, and for those reasons, I’d always found my internal mother (and myself) to be reliable and worthy. This, I thought, is what care looks like.
But cooking, I told her — this seemingly basic act that fuels human survival — felt like a place where my internal mother was letting me down; where I actually couldn’t rely on myself. Where I couldn’t slow down long enough to be with my body, be with the moment, and lean into the chaos of creating something that would feel good.
If I’m getting too “deep” about cooking, blame my therapist (I love you, Kat!), but the more I talked about it with her, the more this rang true.
Yes, there was (/is) a part of me that just feels bad at cooking and needs to practice to get better. And also, it felt like there was an internal shift that needed to happen; a relearning how to trust myself, how to know myself, how to nourish myself in ways that don’t just serve to keep me alive, but act as ways to deeply care for my whole being.
Before a two-week work trip over the summer, I stressed about how draining it might be. I’d done a similar (but shorter) trip the year prior and been completely burnt out at the end. This time, before I left I asked: “How can I care for myself during this?”
I gave myself permission to say no to non-work-related outings, I blocked off solo time to recharge my introvert batteries, I stayed hydrated and went to bed early, I padded the weekend I got home with two extra days off. Simple things, but things I needed to remind myself I was allowed to do.
It was practice, you know? My internal mother — much like my own mother — has always been strong; now I’m showing her we can be soft too.
So yes, I don’t love to cook — though I am trying! Even better, I’m relearning how to truly care for myself; how to nourish myself in the way I would someone I love.
Because I do.
Idea: If you have the space — emotional and otherwise — over the next week, think about your idea of the “Internal Mother”. What is she like? How does she guide you? Care for you? Or not? What did you learn about mothering yourself, either from experience or insight? Is there anything you’d change about your Internal Mother to better align with what you need and not just what you learned? Of course, we’ll explore this topic even more next week!
Anecdote: The people who know me know that I’m a big Dancing With the Stars head. My mom and I have watched every season together for years — and even after I moved up to Oregon, we’d watch it at the same time and text each other throughout. (Yes, it’s very cute!) Last night was the finale of this most recent season and it was SO fun to watch! I was rooting for Ariana Madix from Vanderpump Rules, but every one of the finalists was incredible. It’s my dream to be on the show one day — I’m open to any and all thoughts on how I can become a star in the meantime!
Inspiration:
and I met at a virtual writers meetup a few weeks ago, and I’ve been really enjoying reading her Substack newsletter ever since. Her most recent post — about the concept of care and creating a holiday self-care “package” for yourself — was so perfectly aligned with my thoughts this week! I will absolutely be creating my own self-care package with Kaitlyn’s guidance.
Make sure you’re subscribed to And Also, because next week I’ll share the lesson plan I’m using to explore the many ways I’m trying to better care for myself 🤓
Oh my gosh, I feel you. I have a very similar relationship to cooking and similarly it’s all tied up with my “internal mother.” I feel like my feminist part and the part of me that wants to nourish my body are in deep, complex conflict. I hope they work it out soon so I can eat something I’ve made 😂
I am so touched you shared my newsletter from this week. It was a labor of love 💖