The Kitchen Project, Part One
A Chronic Illness Renovation
I have a complicated relationship with my kitchen, cooking, and eating well.
It’s a room I have to be in. But it’s not always a room I want to be in. When you’re dealing with chronic pain and fatigue, cooking for one can feel like the most thankless chore. You go through all that effort, all that standing, all that cleanup, and at the end of it, you have a single plate of food that you’ll probably eat alone in front of a YouTube video. It can feel very “is this really worth it?”
Since my surgeries, I can only eat small amounts of food at one time, too. Eating just doesn’t seem as fun as it used to be. And I’ve been dealing with a lot of back and hip pain lately, so it’s difficult to want to be in the kitchen, standing, and making a full meal.
But the truth is: I have to eat. I have to cook. So if it’s unavoidable, why am I letting it all be so miserable? Why am I letting it make me so miserable?
That’s the question that started what I’m now calling The Kitchen Project. And true to form, I’m doing it the only way I know how: by making it a creative project. Afterall, I’m a creative person, right? I can do this! It’s time to make a transformation, one piece at a time.
A Series Begins
Over the next three weeks, I’ll be sharing how things are changing: the binder I tore apart and rebuilt, the small atmospheric shifts that changed how the room feels, and the harder, more honest parts…the days none of it works, and what I’ve learned to do about that.
Chronic illness can’t be fixed with a perfect system. There isn’t one. This is a story about finding the parts of an unavoidable room that can still belong to me. I hope some of it is useful for you too, in whatever room is hardest for you right now.
The Binder Overhaul
The first thing I started to tackle is my recipe binder. And I’ve been tearing apart my old system.
It used to be organized by cuisine type, which sounds logical until you realize that on a bad pain day, I don’t care if something is Italian or Asian-inspired. I care about how much it will cost me. So, I’m reorganizing the whole thing by energy level.
I’ve made a few main sections:
Low energy days - minimal standing, minimal dishes, minimal decisions
Medium energy days - a little more involved, but still manageable
Higher energy, more creative days - for when I actually want to cook, not just survive cooking
Comfort Foods & Cozy Drinks
Breads & Breakfast
Pantry Staples and Homemade Goods
Baking and Desserts
And because I’m an illustrator and I can’t help myself, I’ve designed the page dividers. I’ve sketched little woodland kitchen characters. It’s just something that makes opening the binder feel like opening something that belongs to me, not just a stack of printed recipes in a plastic sleeve. I wanted to make it come alive. So, my little woodland kitchen creatures were the answer. They make me smile.
Renaming Everything
I’ve also been going through and renaming my recipes. Not the formal, proper names…those can stay at the bottom as a reference. But I’m giving everything a personal nickname that actually tells me something useful or just makes me smile.
Rainy Day Chicken Bowls
Damn Good Cajun Chicken Pasta (a personal favorite!)
Bare Minimum Pasta
Golden Soup Night
Studio Chicken Rice
So So Good Soft Taco Tuesday.
These names tell me the overall vibe. They tell me the mood. And they just make it easier to choose something on a foggy day when decision fatigue is already winning. I’m not scrolling through “Chicken Piccata” and trying to remember how tired that one makes me. I know exactly what Studio Chicken Rice means.
Part Two is coming next week, where I get into the small atmospheric shifts that changed how the kitchen actually feels to be in. If you don’t want to miss it, subscribe below, and if this resonated, sharing it with someone else who might need it means a lot.
Do you have a room you struggle with? Have your tried reframing how you look at it? I’d love to hear from you below if any of this resonated with you.