Dinner

Does anyone else struggle with getting dinner on the table?

I do.

Maybe it’s my executive functioning challenges, but dinner feels like such a big ask. It isn’t just cooking. It’s deciding, planning, checking ingredients, and holding energy at the end of a long day.

I plan. I shop. I imagine nourishing meals.

And then life happens.

Something runs long.

My energy dips.

Dinner means more to me than food.

Dinner is a pause. Dinner is grounding. Dinner is medicine.

I believe food nourishes not just bodies but cells and souls. A home-cooked meal feels life-giving.

And yet it is still so hard.

How do I nourish five people when I am exhausted? How do I hold onto the hope of feeding them well when the reality of daily life interferes?

My children are adults now. They can certainly feed themselves.

But sometimes I still want to cook for them — not because they need me to, but because it feels like one of the last quiet ways I get to nourish them. To say, I care. I am still here.

I am still in process with this.

But I am still trying to align my ideals with my actual energy.

All the while grateful for what we have.

Dinner still needs to be cooked — if only for me.

So today, I am still trying to align my hopes and dreams with reality.

Ultimately, I am still figuring it out.

I am still practicing.

I am even still failing some days.

But I am still trying.