What I Cook When I’m Okay: AUDHD + Trauma Informed Food Prep

What I Cook When I’m Okay — AUDHD + Trauma Informed Food Prep

When I first got here after my unexpected emergency relocation I was eating tuna out of a can in my car with hot sauce and untoasted sourdough until I found my way through the administrative maze and back into the corporate world and into a stable housing situation. I had my SUV, items I shoved in my car in a panic, and a dream of being in an apartment or home again.

Now I’m in an apartment. Which is paradise. Normal is paradise. I want to say that plainly because I think people forget to notice when things get better. It made me able to fully address my health needs and overall wellbeing. I can now feel my feelings safely, and have to get back into a routine.

Here is what I actually eat — budget friendly, muscle-building friendly, AUDHD friendly, and easy enough that I will actually do it.

The Rotation

• Sweet potato (roasted)
• Carrot (for soup bases, raw, or roasted)
• Arugula
• High protein yogurt
• Cottage cheese
• Bananas
• Apples
• Rice
• Eggs
• Chicken
• Steak or Cubed Beef for grilling (rare appearance)
• Garlic
• Onion
• Cherry tomato
• Dried beans and legumes
• Lemons on a good week
• Zaatar & olive oil
• Sourdough bread
• Butter
• Milk
• A good coffee for a latte and earl grey, both with cream

I still alternate weeks to keep things stocked, but it works. Some items I buy in bulk. It’s not just the what that matters in generating more okayness after a hard reset. It’s the how.

A small rice maker running in the background. An egg boiler on the counter or a frying pan on the stove. Sweet potatoes wrapped in foil on a baking sheet in the oven at 400 degrees until they’re soft all the way through. A small tabletop George Foreman grill for my chicken or steak, easy to clean with paper towels and a sponge after. A small crockpot for beans or soup that can sit on warm all day or overnight. A frozen loaf of sourdough always in the freezer. That’s the whole kitchen infrastructure. Low effort whole foods that are safe for me to eat repeatedly and help me build muscle was my goal.

On a good week — chicken and steak. Tons of garlic. Hot sauce on the side. Rice. Avocado. Sweet potato. Steak makes a rare appearance when I’m feeling funded and optimistic. I can prep the ingredients in 20 minutes total and have them cooking all at once with minimal prep time. It took me 9 months of working a big girl job again to acquire the appliances to make that possible. I had to rent storage for the first 3-4 months. It feels very rewarding to make a grilled cheese sandwich or a third latte in my own place.

On a financially or emotionally harder week — eggs, rice and hot sauce still feel luxurious. Sourdough and butter, or peanut butter and jam, or brie, or tuna is really a simple pleasure. Still a real meal. Still more than a can of tuna with hot sauce in a parking lot in a panic. I did get to enjoy some grocery store sushi pre-workout from my car. I only spent 6 days in a car but it fundamentally changed the way I view things. More on that later.

The system works for building progress because there are no decisions. It is chronic illness savvy, for those who have variables they have to account for. The rice maker makes rice — no mess, hardly any cleanup. It’s a neutral canvas for flavoring. The egg boiler makes eggs, also light on the mess and the effort. I can fry eggs the way I normally like them, but I keep half a dozen boiled eggs on deck for when I just can’t muster the energy to cook. The sweet potatoes go in the oven and come out done, and store well in the fridge or freezer. I’m not standing over anything. I’m not following a recipe. I’m not executive-functioning my way through a grocery list that requires seventeen ingredients and the kind of sustained attention I do not always have. I can lazy-reheat everything in a glass container in the oven in a big pile. It’s not glamorous.

I prep when I have energy. I eat what’s there when I don’t. That’s what I’ve learned about post-trauma recovery cooking.

When I first started working again — after losing everything, after starting from nothing — buying the ingredients for a tabouli salad felt insurmountable. A lemon. Fresh parsley. Bulgur wheat. Olive oil. Tomatoes. Onions. Too many decisions. Too many steps. Too much to hold at once. 70$ is too expensive.

I am now eyeing oysters and salmon at the grocery store. It almost feels greedy. Stability is a true luxury. Energy, health, and focus are as well.

I made a tinned oyster, rat-girl dinner plate (ask TikTok what that is) instead of fresh oysters– complete with Swiss cheese slices, pickles, tomato and onion slices with pomegranate molasses on top of the tomato and onion. It felt fancy to my nervous system, a system that at one time could set up a whole charcuterie graze table, and now can hardly supress the urge to eat everything straight from the jar and drink milk from the carton like a goblin.

The crash happened all at once but the rebuilding happened in stages. I bought groceries as if my life was normal when I first got here in the first months Airbnb. I miscalculated how much savings could stretch and how fast a work permit could be processed properly.

By the next month, it was Gas station coffee with the good cream was my lifeline in transition. It was mana from God. Tuna in a can with hot sauce was my survival food. Ramen in a paper bowl under the coffee maker at the motel was the next step up after I landed my first job. Takeout in the mini fridge was a milestone. Tim Hortons on the way to work was the next luxury-despite me turning my nose down at fast food. It felt like big progress to order a large coffee and breakfast and afford gas to work that day. It was like starting over at 18 again but with a more serious and traumatic boot out the door and more devastating consequences.

Chicken and garlic and rice and avocado are now something I can enjoy again. I love cottage cheese with zaatar and olive oil. It’s been a year and a month since I immigrated. I remember when I bought one bowl, one plate, and one silverware set after a long shift serving. I couldn’t justify a single treat. Now, I buy the store made tiramisu and don’t feel bad about it.

There is something distinct about joyfully building a body worth living in under stable conditions. About the specific pleasure of opening a fridge that has food in it because I put it there, on purpose, for myself — and that I am able to continue to do so.

By month 10 or 11, I was possibly overspending on food delivery, while intentionally building automated systems at home for improving my life. That’s progress.

I am happy to announce I have never been more–just okay. Quiet, stable, building. That seems like the best method so far. It’s also because I designed the pantry and fridge to support me when I am not.

I do look forward to the version of me that can cook for hours, try new recipes, and create everything from scratch like at times in my past. But for now, easy does it best.