Lately the only thing that helps me focus through my grief is finding a recipe, cooking the recipe, and feeding my partner. I am voracious - not for the food, but for the knowledge.
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The days I cook I re-read recipes, focusing on the steps, getting myself ready. I’m getting much better at doing prep work, and the execution is getting easier.
I love the time spent turning separate items into a cohesive meal. It’s time where I don’t have to think. I’m addicted to it.
I’ve had too much time to think recently and it’s turned me into a neurotic mess. I miss my mom, even though she’s still here. I never cooked before, really, and I would have loved to cook for her. But that time has passed, and the mother I knew is gone. She’s pre-occupied with her own mortality.
Still, I feel a frantic need to create moments of domestic bliss. Comfort through cooking. Joy through feeding others. I am doing a speed-run on learning homemaking, because my home is dying and I desperately want something to be there to replace it when my mother dies.
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I love the time spent turning separate items into a cohesive meal. It’s time where I don’t have to think. I’m addicted to it.
Wish me luck.