I Cooked to Connect: Reclaiming Reciprocal Care

For a long time, I believed love lived in a kitchen.

In the pie crusts, I crimped and designed just right.

In the full holiday spreads.

In the extra servings, the leftovers packed to go, the coffee made exactly the way you liked it.

A meal wasn’t just food.

It was connection therapy.

An apology.

A peace offering.

A way of saying, “See? I care. I’m here. Don’t leave.”

I baked my love.

I seasoned it.

I poured myself into every dish like it was the only language I had to offer.

And I told myself:

This is how I show up.

This is who I am.

This is how I keep us close.

But somewhere along the way, the joy started leaking out.

Not because I stopped loving the craft, I never have.

But because no one asked if I wanted to.

No one lifted a finger to help.

No one brought me a plate.

No one said, “You look tired, let me take over.”

I was feeding everyone but myself.

That’s the part that broke something open, the realization that I was baking love into spaces where I wasn’t really being seen, only served.

And it hurt.

Not because I wanted to stop baking, but because I wanted the love to move both directions.

I wanted reciprocity, not consumption.

So I stepped back.

Not out of bitterness, but out of grief.

The kind of grief that arrives when you finally admit that connection should nourish you too.

Now I’m relearning.

And yes, I still bake.

But not to earn affection.

Not to hold a relationship together.

Not to keep people close who were already drifting away.

Now, when I cook, it’s because I want to.

Because it brings me joy, not because I’m afraid of losing theirs.

Reclaiming reciprocal care helped me see that cooking from fear drained me, while cooking from joy nourishes me.

A Slice of Humble Pie

Sometimes love turns into a transaction long before we realize we’ve priced ourselves out of our own joy.

Reflection

What form of love did you give that slowly became an obligation instead of a gift?

Where did generosity become a mask for fear or loneliness?

What does reclaiming that part of yourself, just for you, look like now?

Affirmation

I give from fullness, not fear. I bake because I love it, not because I’m afraid to be forgotten. My gifts are sacred, and they deserve to be received with care.