
For years, cooking felt like a chore I was constantly behind on.
I’d stand in the kitchen tired, hungry, and frustrated, staring at ingredients with no motivation. Every meal felt like a performance - it had to be healthy, delicious, Instagram-worthy, and somehow ready in 20 minutes. If it wasn’t perfect, I felt like I failed.
Then something changed.
Not my kitchen.
Not my budget.
Not my skills.
My mindset changed - and everything followed.
Many people think cooking feels hard because they’re “bad at it” or “don’t have time.” But the real issue usually runs deeper.
We’ve been taught that cooking should be:
Perfect every time
Balanced, beautiful, and impressive
Planned days in advance
Made from scratch
Worthy of praise
That pressure turns a basic human task into a stressful obligation.
Cooking stops being about nourishment and starts being about expectations.
And expectations are exhausting.
Here’s the change that made cooking feel easier:
I stopped treating every meal like a big event.
Not every dinner needed to be special.
Not every plate needed variety.
Not every meal needed effort.
Some meals just needed to exist.
Once I accepted that, cooking became lighter - mentally and physically.
One of the hardest parts of cooking isn’t the cooking itself - it’s deciding.
What should I make?
Is it healthy enough?
Will everyone like it?
Do I have the ingredients?
By lowering the stakes of each meal, decisions become easier. Sometimes dinner is just eggs and toast - and that’s enough.
Less thinking = less resistance.
Perfectionism is the silent joy-killer in the kitchen.
When you believe every meal must be “worth it,” cooking feels heavy before you even start. But when you allow meals to be simple, imperfect, and repetitive, you cook more often - and with less stress.
Progress beats perfection, especially in everyday cooking.
Historically, cooking wasn’t about creativity or performance. It was about survival, comfort, and routine.
When you let cooking return to its most basic purpose - feeding yourself - it becomes grounding instead of draining.
Cooking doesn’t have to be exciting to be valuable.
After making this one change, cooking started to look very different:
Repeating meals without guilt
Using shortcuts unapologetically
Eating simple food on busy days
Cooking with what I already had
Letting some meals be boring
And surprisingly, I enjoyed cooking more than ever.
Not every meal needs to be your best.
Have a list of low-effort, no-thinking meals you can default to when energy is low. These meals aren’t a failure - they’re a strategy.
Examples:
Pasta with jarred sauce
Rice, eggs, and vegetables
Sandwiches or wraps
Frozen meals with fresh sides
Eating the same meals multiple times a week isn’t lazy - it’s efficient.
Repetition reduces:
Planning stress
Grocery costs
Mental load
Restaurants repeat meals. Athletes repeat meals. You can too.
Many people delay cooking because they’re waiting for the “right mood.”
But cooking doesn’t create energy - it uses it.
When meals are simple, starting feels easier, which makes consistency possible.
A real meal doesn’t require:
Multiple components
Cooking from scratch
Perfect balance
A real meal is one that feeds you.
Anything beyond that is a bonus.
This one change didn’t just make cooking easier - it made it kinder.
I stopped judging myself for:
Being tired
Wanting convenience
Choosing simplicity
Cooking stopped being proof of productivity and became an act of care.
And that shift matters.
You can have:
The best recipes
The best kitchen tools
The best meal plans
But if cooking feels emotionally heavy, none of it sticks.
Ease starts in the mind, not the kitchen.
When you remove pressure, cooking becomes sustainable - and sustainability is what actually changes habits.
The one change that made cooking feel easier wasn’t about skill, time, or money.
It was about permission.
Permission to keep meals simple.
Permission to repeat food.
Permission to feed myself without judgment.
If cooking feels hard right now, you don’t need a complete overhaul.
You might just need to let it matter less.
And ironically, that’s what makes it better.