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I began cooking for my family at age 10. My cooking-averse mother handed me The Joy of Cooking for my birthday and said, “The kitchen is all yours.” My mom and dad were chain-smokers who probably couldn’t taste much flavor anyway, thanks to their mid-meal “smoke breaks.” Though it was a bit overwhelming at first, I felt proud that I could contribute to my family this way, and I looked forward to all of us eating better.

I didn’t follow in my mom’s footsteps of preparing TV dinners and food boiled in bags. Instead, I felt the wonder of preparing whole food. Our grocery bill climbed a bit, but frankly all that processed food hadn’t been exactly cheap, either (You pay for convenience, right?), so everything balanced out. As a child, I wasn’t driving to the grocery store (I could barely reach the stovetop), nor was I in charge of the checkbook, so some of my culinary requests were met with resistance.

“Beef Welling-what?” I remember my parents asking. But the tasty results soon quieted any opposition. In a very chaotic household, cooking gave me agency and a sense of control, which followed me into adulthood. The TV might have been blaring nonstop soap operas for my mom, and the police band radio might have been squawking its mysterious codes for my dad, but there was blessed peace when supper finally hit the table.

“In a very chaotic household, cooking gave me agency and a sense of control, which followed me into adulthood.”

After I got married at age 20, I began cooking more complicated recipes from the now defunct Gourmet magazine for my husband and our friends. Our tiny Atlanta apartment was filled with the garlicky aromas of escargots à la Bourguignonne when we entertained. This was quite the change for our usual guests, who had been mostly accustomed to the garlicky aromas of Domino’s breadsticks. Soon enough, word got out that the meals were really good chez Seyfried.

We welcomed five children in 10 years, and though my fancy dinners became more rare during that hectic time of raising young kids, I made sure my family always ate well. I may have had the only second graders in town who asked for dacquoise as their birthday cake. Things were chaotic, but good.

But then, at age 49, during menopause, I began having unfamiliar and frightening feelings that led to strange, out-of-character outbursts and impulsive actions. For months, my moods swung daily between mania and depression. While feeling manic, I’d spend thousands of dollars on high heels, leather miniskirts, and makeup. I became incredibly nasty to my husband and kids, using language I’d never used before. Bipolar disorder is a mental health condition that often causes extreme mood swings. But at the time, I had no clue what was wrong with me. I became increasingly dysfunctional, embodying Bradley Cooper’s character Pat in the movie Silver Linings Playbook when I wasn’t resembling the titular character in The Absent-Minded Professor.

Throughout that terrible year, I still continued cooking despite the ups and downs. At times, when I was experiencing mania, I really went overboard. That Thanksgiving, I invited my son’s international exchange student friends from the Naval Academy over for dinner. I wasn’t content to whip up a USA style spread, so I prepared the national dishes of their four countries to add to our board of turkey and trimmings. Romanian zacusca? Thai shrimp and lemongrass soup? Cameroonian fou fou? No problem!

Though I’d always been a book lover, now I simply could not stay focused on anything other than cookbooks and glossy fashion magazines. Unlike the jittery feelings I had paging through the glittering photo spreads of Vogue, I found both calm and comfort with my buddies James Beard, Craig Claiborne, and Julia Child. Even during my worst manic episodes, I was able to follow a recipe. I may have been making a terrible mess of my life, but I could still give my suffering family the only gift I had left to give: dinner.

“Unlike the jittery feelings I had paging through the glittering photo spreads of Vogue, I found both calm and comfort with my buddies James Beard, Craig Claiborne, and Julia Child.”

After many months of struggling, I saw a psychiatrist, began therapy, and started taking medication. Gradually, I stopped binge clothes shopping, and relegated Glamour to the recycling bin. And as I healed, the kitchen remained my favorite place. It turns out, I wasn’t alone. Cooking and baking can have great therapeutic value for those dealing with mental health conditions.

“I have heard from many of my patients that cooking is relaxing, or calming, or brings them joy,” Jessi Gold, MD MS, psychiatrist and best-selling author of How Do You Feel? tells The Kitchn. “It is a clear-cut task with instructions that can help get you out of your head and into the work really easily. If things feel out of control, a recipe can help you regain it, as well. It is kind of like working on a puzzle in that sense, taking a bunch of ingredients and making art, and probably the same kinds of patients who find puzzles calming also enjoy cooking, too.”

Valerie Van Galder is CEO of the Depressed Cake Shop Foundation. The cornerstone of the foundation is the Depressed Cake Shop, founded by Emma Thomas in 2013, which hosts pop-up events to sell baked goods. The proceeds benefit mental health programs and initiatives. Van Galder became involved when she found herself experiencing depression and anxiety after her father’s hospitalization with bipolar disorder. She noticed that baking made a real positive difference in her own mental well-being. “Behavioral activation,” Van Galder tells The Kitchn, “is a modality for doing something (such as cooking and baking) that puts you in a flow state. Cooking and baking require and reward being very specific and following the directions very carefully. Your brain is absorbed in the activity at hand and doesn’t have time to think about other things that might be worrying you.”

I’ve been stable for 18 years, and my life is so much more peaceful than it was when bipolar disorder first reared its ugly head. I’m in the kitchen almost every night, grateful that I still have people I love to cook for. As our nest emptied, it was refilled by our oldest son, my daughter-in-law, and their three wonderful kids. I’m once again happily on dinner duty, with cherished mouths to feed. I love to bake whole wheat and orange bread (à la Claiborne) with my older grandsons, and have them help me dream up fun and exciting new flavors to churn in my ice cream machine. My grandkids Aiden and Peter help roll out dough to make pie these days, without a sour filling of their nana’s screams and curses. My kitchen no longer resembles the loud, hyper-stressed setting of my childhood home.

Dr. Gold adds, “Cooking is unique in that it creates a product, and there is creativity and fun in that, but also meaning because food can also bring connection and conversation with others as well. Socializing together over a meal can combat loneliness, and food is something in our culture that often brings us together, or celebrates an occasion, which in itself might be mood benefiting.”

When people with mental illness talk about what saved them, they mention returning to church, running marathons, or finding the right doctor and medication. For me, the kitchen was all three of those. It was my refuge and my holy place in my worst moments. I never became a runner, but my wielding of pots and pans was the perfect exercise. While I owe my psychiatrist a lot, cooking was my best form of therapy. My small culinary wins gave me hope that I might still make a success of the rest of my life.

If you or someone you know is struggling with a mental illness, the National Alliance on Mental Illness is here to help. Call 800-950-6264, text “NAMI” to 62640, or in a crisis, call or text 988 (24/7).

Further Reading

The “Beautiful” $3 Flower Tumblers at Walmart People Are Buying 2 at a Time

The One Cookware Brand That Gordon Ramsay Can’t Stop Talking About

Le Creuset Launched a Pan That’s Perfect for Everything from Stews to Stir-Fry — and It’s Already on Sale

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