🔥 The Strains of a Cook: What the Kitchen Takes from Us
The kitchen after service — quiet, heavy, and haunted by the weight we carry.
We all know the high. The adrenaline rush. The sound of the printer spewing orders.
The sear, the sizzle, the perfectly fired plate — it’s a kind of music. But what we don’t talk about — what we never talk about — is the cost.
Because behind every dish is a cook who’s breaking down quietly. And no one claps for that.
💔 Our Bodies Aren’t Built for This
PYou think the hard part is the long hours. But it’s the repetition that kills us. Same motion, every day. Chopping. Lifting. Stirring. Standing still while your feet scream. And then the knees.
The wrists. The spine. The neck. You bend until something inside you shifts — permanently.
I had cryoablation for atrial fibrillation by 32.
My eyes are starting to fail.
My back stiffens like steel.
Some days my legs don’t even “hear” my brain anymore. They just don’t move. And yet — I go in.
Because we all do.
🧠The Mind Cracks Too
It’s not just the physical. It’s the emotional toll of being “on” when you’re actually breaking inside.You forget to eat. You forget to breathe. You take pride in not taking a break — until the breaks take you.
One day you snap.
Not because you’re weak. But because you’ve been strong too long.We glamorize the hustle. We romanticize the pain. But most of us are too burned out to feel the romance anymore.
🧱 The Pressure Builds, SilentlyYou’re not allowed to complain. You’re not allowed to cry. You’re not even supposed to be seen unless you’re perfect — chef whites spotless, hair tight, no emotion.
But every service leaves a mark. Every plate you send out takes a little piece of you with it. And eventually, there’s less and less of you left.
🥄 Eating Last Always
Funny thing is we make food for a living. But we’re always the last to eat. Or we don’t eat at all.I once went 12 hours without a single bite. Why? Because we normalize it. Because we tell ourselves: “There’s no time, the guests come first, I’ll eat later.” But later never comes.And then we wonder why our health falls apart.
⚖️ So, What Now?
I’m not writing this for pity. I’m writing this so that maybe the next cook doesn’t feel alone. So that maybe one of you reading this will say, “That’s me. I’m tired too. And I need to stop pretending I’m fine.
”Because until we talk about this — really talk — nothing changes.We deserve better. We deserve support. We deserve to last longer than our knees.
💬 Let’s Talk About It
I know this hit some of you in the gut. That’s the point. So now, I want to hear from you:
What has the kitchen taken from you?
Leave it in the comments.
Say it anonymously if you have to. But say it.
Because we’re only as strong as the silence we’re willing to break.
