Carrie Saum

So, what do you do when you make something that looks a mess but tastes like the Virgin Mary give birth in your mouth? You add more sugar and salt to hide its minor imperfections and nobody gives a damn how it looks after the first bite.

When I talked to my doctor about the forgetfulness and resulting anxiety I was experiencing, she suggested that I make lists, try bullet point journaling, and work on taking more time for self-care.

One of my favorite things to do is make comfort food with a twist. Not so twisty that I lose people (I see you lurking in the $13 specialty treat section, beef jerky chocolate bar). Nor will I take two foods that are genius on their own but should probably never join themselves in a culinary union (I’m looking at you, Krispy Kreme Cheeseburger).

Twice a year, I embark on a one to two week cleanse. I feel invigorated, I sleep better, my libido rises, and I'm able to use it as a reset to return to eating foods that make my body feel good.

Feelings are important. I don’t mean this in a trite, self-help sort of way. I mean, you have a right to your feelings. Full stop.

I cracked the sugar crust, took a bite, and then I actually DID cry. Huge, crocodile tears because it was good and this food tasted the way the city felt. It was home.

For the first time in my life, I was lost after leaving Evangelical Christianity. I watched the shores of everything safe and familiar wash away.

As someone who has battled bulimia, overeating, and a fairly disordered relationship with food, a Total Elimination Diet (or TED) is daunting and triggering.

I've spent the last week in sunny California. I was there for a massive food expo. It was also Spring Break.

Awash in the postpartum anxiety, I felt glued to the couch, unable to mobilize myself to get anything done except the bare basics of being a present.