Finding the Win!

I’ve been working through a lot recently—more than I’d care to admit. There’s a post I’ve seen floating around about how January is like a Mulligan, how the year doesn’t really start until February. And honestly? I get it.

The truth is, I wrote something recently that completely rocked me to my core. I shared it with a friend, and they said, “You have to post this.” But for the first time, I hesitated. I didn’t want my journey to be seen. The words were there, but the courage to say them aloud wasn’t.

We all carry our own battles. Some of us bottle them up, while others wear them on our sleeves. I don’t judge anyone for how they cope. But when judgment is directed at me, that’s when my boundaries kick in. My passion is food; my lifeblood is mental health. Combining the two feels like my purpose—breaking bread, telling stories, and reminding people it’s OK not to be OK.

That brings me back to what I wrote. I was reflecting on a day that felt like a complete shit show. The kind of day where everything seemed to go wrong. As I sat down to find the “win” for the day, I came up blank. Nothing. Nada. I rubbed my temples, trying to make sense of it all, replaying every moment. And then it hit me: I survived.

That was my win—I survived the day. It wasn’t glamorous or earth-shattering. But it was real. That realization brought up emotions I hadn’t felt in years. It was like giving myself permission to just be—to exist in that messy space without needing to tie it up in a bow.

Sometimes, the win is just surviving. And that’s OK. Because even on the hardest days, finding just one lifeline—a small victory, a deep breath, washing the day away with a shower, or even a moment of stillness—can be the thing that keeps us going.

So if today feels heavy, know this: surviving is enough. You are enough. And tomorrow is another chance to find your win.

My Daughter’s Greatest Gift

As I walked today, I found myself texting a dear friend, trying to unpack the sadness that has been lingering in me. At first, I thought it was just about Bacon Bits—about the weight she’s going through, her loneliness, and the pain of not having her family intact. But then it hit me.

I’m not just sad for her; I’m sad because I know that emptiness. I know what it feels like to want someone and not have them there. That loneliness isn’t foreign to me—it’s a wound I’ve carried for a long time, one I didn’t fully recognize until now.

When I think back to my childhood, Sundays were my sanctuary. My grandfathers were my safety net, my constants. They were there, grounding me and giving me a sense of stability and love. And when they were gone, that safety net was ripped away. That’s when the darkness crept in when the depression took root—the feeling of being left behind, unmoored, alone.

Today, that memory touched my soul in a way I didn’t expect. It’s as if I finally saw the starting point, the origin of the sadness I’ve carried for so many years. And now, seeing Bacon Bits’ pain, I realize how much of myself I see in her. It’s heartbreaking to witness, but it also gives me clarity.

This is a moment where I have the power to do something different. I can’t erase Bacon Bits’ pain or undo the losses she’s endured, but I can be present for her in a way I wish someone had been for me. I can be her safety net. I can show her that even in the midst of loneliness, she is not alone.

And maybe, just maybe, as I work to support and heal her, I’ll find a way to offer that same love and understanding to the boy I used to be—the one who felt abandoned when his grandfathers were no longer there.

This isn’t just about Bacon Bits; it’s about breaking the cycle of loneliness and creating something new and healing for both of us.

The Power of Knowing: Turning Struggles into Strength

Life is funny. You always hear these stories that people learn later in their lives. You have to wonder how they didn't know that, like didn't they have a feeling? When I heard stories like that, I always wondered, "How did they not know!!" Then, it happened not once, not twice, and probably will never stop. In my book, I mentioned that I have known of ten people who completed suicide, two of those people being my great-grandmother and great-uncle. I found out that truth when my Ex-father-in-law completed his life in 2003. For thirty-three years, I heard that my Uncle saved people during some subway accident, only to learn that he took his life by jumping in front of one. In my twenties, when I was going to college, I found out that I was diagnosed with dyslexia. When I was being tested as an adult, the therapist told me he knew exactly what was wrong with me.

Let me dive a little deeper for you. I was given puzzle pieces to put together, and they gradually became more arduous, and I was being timed. It was one of the last puzzles, with many pieces, no outline, and just wood tone. I had no reference point either. I had one piece in my hand and couldn't figure out what was before me. The doctor looked at me and said, "I know what your issue is!" I was like, "Okay, want to let me know!!!" He explained, "The harder something is, the easier it is for you!" I was like, "Whatcha you talking about, Willis?" Basically, Einstein's theory of relativity is easier for me to understand than 2+2=4. Once it was determined I had dyslexia, I started this CSI investigation into "How come I didn't t know this???" I went to my pediatrician and asked him; I got, "I-I did not want you to use that as a crutch!" Let's just say what came out of my mouth was superlative four-letter words. At first, I was angry. I kept telling myself, "What would have been different for me growing up knowing I had this? Would my relationship with my father be different knowing that?

Now, I just found out that I was diagnosed with adult ADHD. A lot of you may say, DUH, we all knew that. I felt something was wrong, but I didn't know exactly what. I don't have all the symptoms of ADHD, but the ones I do have, let's just say A+++. Last year, I was evaluated, and the therapist never got back to me. I moved on with my life, and this past Friday, my new therapist told me that I was diagnosed. Again, I can sit here and play the victim, but what has happened can never be changed. I cannot let my past dedicate my present or my future. The only change I can make for my future is to focus on my present.

Yes, it sucks that I didn't know what I know now. I have lived 53 years of my life and have a choice to make. I could either wallow in my shit and play the woe is me game or be grateful. Honestly, I see this as true human grit and spirit. I went through all that schooling and did all of these things without knowing. I overcame my adversity without knowing I had it. Now that I have been diagnosed, my new journey of healing can begin. My thoughts are about what I now can accomplish with having the tools to become who I was to become.

I look forward to what is in store for me. I will no longer think, "How much is in my tank," but "I cannot wait to see" what I can accomplish. Sitting here thinking about how to end this, I think about martial arts and what the most challenging belt to achieve is. I believe it is the white belt. The most intense battle is choosing to start that martial art form. Mental health, the most challenging aspect, is actually saying you need help and getting it.

Recently, I talked to a friend who has been going through a lot. I said, "What if you knew you would end your journey on X date? How would you live your life?" They thought and said, "I would stop drinking!" That got me to think, 'Why wait until you know when you will die? Why not think tomorrow is your last? Think about being the best version of yourself that you can be!" Exploring your emotions and knowing that you can manage them is extremely powerful. What is powerless, having your emotions control you? We must teach ourselves the correct positive coping mechanisms to get through life. Life is already hard, so why do you want to throw more fuel on that fire? Take back your power to manage your emotions and watch what YOU can achieve. #justonelife

Cooking with Soul: Redefining Perfection in the Kitchen

I was taking a quick break, thumbing through my Apple screen, when I came across someone asking, “What’s the best coffee?” That got me thinking about the concept of “the best” in food. It's become so subjective! Just think about how many different Oreo flavors there are!

Let's talk cookies for a second. Are you a soft cookie, not a soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur - squirrel moment? Do you like crunch? If you do like crunch, how much? Are you one of those "I love the edges crispy crunchy nomnomness with that soft warm center!" Food has so many layers, so how can you say X BRAND is the best? If all it takes is slap a label on it, it's the best. Hell, if that is what it takes for something to be the best, then my BACON is the best!

I feel a new journey brewing for my taste buds and imagination. I want to experience, taste, and truly live in the moment with food. What does it mean to find the best? The definition of “best” is “of the most excellent, effective, or desirable type or quality.” But my question is: best for whom? As chefs, we push ourselves daily for this elusive notion of perfection, raising the bar so high that it's almost intangible.

I love dark chocolate for many reasons, but primarily for its raw intensity. It tells a story, and the chocolatier's skill in manipulating those flavors creates a complex bite that can leave you breathless—those Meg Ryan “I’ll have what she’s having” moments!

So, do you like dark chocolate? If you do, I hope you felt that picture I painted. If not, I may have lost you—until now.

I’ve always been told I’m a perfectionist, and just typing that gives me chills. Those twelve letters have affected me deeply! But I’ve realized that perfection has been my villain, holding me back. The power of words can be stunning!

As I sit here, reflecting on “THE BEST,” I’ve awakened to a profound truth: it wasn’t perfection I was seeking; it was simply to exist. I don’t need validation from others or my food to know that I deserve to exist. No more chasing likes, awards, or views.

It’s time for the next chapter. It’s time to embrace my imperfections because they are even more craveable than the best. Why? Because now, I’m cooking with my soul.