The Cost of Silence

We don’t talk about the nights we went home shaking, bleeding, unable to feel anymore. We don’t talk about it because we were told this is what it takes to make it.

Here’s the truth about silence in the kitchen: it doesn’t save you. It swallows you whole.

It turns passion into panic. Pride into pain. It buries itself in the spaces between shifts and settles like a weight on your chest.

I remember nights when I pushed down the burning in my legs, the sting in my hands, the ache in my heart, because stopping meant falling behind. And falling behind meant being called worthless, not just as a cook, but as a person. So you learn to carry it. To wear it like a badge. To say “OUI, Chef” when every bone in your body is screaming “no more.”

That silence? It doesn’t make you tougher. It doesn’t build character. It kills pieces of you. Slowly.

It’s the panic attacks at 2 a.m. when the shift is over.

It’s the pain that wakes you up in the morning.

It’s the ache in your chest when you walk through the kitchen door.

It’s the voice in your head telling you that if you don’t keep going, you’re nothing.

It’s how addiction slips in. The drinks. The pills. The escapes we justify because we’ve been taught that numbing the pain is part of the job.

And the biggest cost? It’s not just your body. It’s your heart. It’s every piece of belonging and worth that this industry grinds down until you forget why you started cooking in the first place.

I’ve watched too many chefs burn out. Too many line cooks walk away. Too many friends spiral down dark paths that end with no return. Too many broken hands and broken spirits because silence felt like the only option.

Here’s the truth I learned too late:

Silence kills. Speaking saves.

Connection heals. Isolation destroys.

We weren’t meant to walk this line alone.

So if you’re living this right now, hear this:

You’re worth more than the shift.

More than the burns.

More than the nights you can’t remember.

More than the days you can’t forget.

If you recognize yourself in these words, this is your moment to raise your hand and speak. To stand beside the rest of us and say, “Enough. This ends with me.”

Break the silence. Not just for yourself, for the next cook, the next chef, the next person who needs to hear it.

Break the silence so that the culture can finally change.

More to come. Stay with me.

#justonelife