Right, okay, so not to toot my own horn or anything but I’ve actually become quite good at this whole cooking thing during lockdown. I’d say four months ago I could just about put together an edible bolognese or lasagne, just about. These were things I’d make in advance on the weekend so I could easily freeze and eat them later down the line after a random gym session or whatever. Bland, poorly seasoned and usually a bit gross I haven’t cooked either of these meals since my skills have improved dramatically.
Now you can find me in the kitchen whipping up a carbonara, or maybe a chicken pie, or maybe a vegetable curry, or maybe even some salmon with a paprika crust cooked in honey (sounds a bit weird but I promise it isn't). I finally have the time to shop for the right ingredients, to let things cook properly and most importantly, the belief that what I’ve made will turn out alright. (Albeit sometimes it can go a bit tits up). There are days, of course, when Jules and I get takeout, or I might want something quick (like just pasta and cheese ha) or on occasion, I might have some frozen chicken goujons that I want to eat. However, however, 8 times out of 10 I will cook from scratch, thoroughly enjoying the process as well as the satisfaction I get from putting together a nice meal. I've come a long way.
Trigger warning. Also, I am speaking very openly about topics which are difficult for me to come to terms with still and I apologise in advance if anything I mention is upsetting to read
It would be a gross understatement to say that I’ve always had a fantastic, functioning, loving, stable and healthy relationship with food. When I was younger, eating for me was like a complex minefield. Battling the ‘if I eat I feel sick and if I don’t eat I feel sick’ cycle as I progressed into my twenties, I struggled with dining out, dining at home, large plates of food, strong-smelling food, swallowing food and the process of preparing food itself. It's a tricky one because when you're in it, you don't realise how bad it is, and most of the time (my parents excluded) the people around you don't notice.
I wish I had a magic formula to share with you to make it better, but I don't.
I often stand in my kitchen in London and think about how bad it was, arms deep in some cooking attempt that could go right or wrong, imagining what my younger self would say to me if she could see me now. On the other side of it, I think it would be slightly too easy for me to tell you that I just grew out of what I was going through because I didn't, not really. It took a long time and involved me pretty much retraining myself to eat regular meals at regular times while getting my anxiety and panic attacks under control. (I had counselling during this time which I highly, highly recommend). There were (and still are) really tough days, migraine filled days, days where I felt sick but was never actually sick, days where I ate enough and days where I still didn't.
Then, after what felt like months of walking around with plastic bags hidden inside every bag I own, I found myself in a restaurant not thinking about where the toilets were in case I wanted to be sick; nor was I deliberately picking places where I knew the menu off by heart so I could eat ‘safe meals’ (food I was able to consume without worrying if I was going to be seeing it later on). Even typing that out now feels bizarre, and makes me sad, desperately sad. Sometimes I remember the really hard, super, dark tricky days (which I won't get into) but I am so proud to be where I am now, having developed a much healthier relationship with food, and myself :-)
I try and be frank myself when I talk about it, and honest with other people too. This has enabled me to feel less shame while also giving my friends and acquaintances a space to talk about their issues because chances are people are going to know exactly what I'm talking about anyway. I also try and be frank with myself when I think about it, separating my anxiety from my relationship with food.
Finding a passion for cooking during quarantine has been a saving grace, and I go into each week thinking of different recipes I can follow or try out. Handling food, tasting the ingredients as I go and heading to the shops to buy different things is a past time I look forward to.
Goodbye, I'm gonna go demolish a bacon bagel.
Lau-ren xo
P.S. It gets better, I promise.
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