Food Didn’t Raise Me, But It’s Raising Me Now

Ever have one of those moments where it’s like a cartoon lightbulb just pops on above your head?

Like, clear as day, this little cloud bubble appears—bing!—and suddenly you’re one fact smarter than you were two seconds ago.

That’s what it felt like the day food finally woke me up.

I’m not talking about hunger. I’m talking about connection. Awareness. Intention.

The kind of relationship with food that feels rooted. Sacred. Whole.

Raised on Roux, But Blind to the Basics

It’s funny how food never meant much to me growing up, considering I was raised smack in the middle of South Louisiana by a family that didn’t measure love in words, but in gumbo pots and Sunday plates.

Both of my grandmothers could rattle some pots like nobody’s business.

My dad’s mama cooked for three boys like it was an Olympic sport, and my granny—the oldest of twelve—was no stranger to feeding a crowd on a tight budget.

My Pawpy grew the best garden this side of the bayou, and everyone who knew him knew that dirt was his pride and joy.

But me? I couldn’t care less.

Food was just… food.

I was the pickiest eater you could imagine—ridiculously, discouragingly picky. I ate meat, just about all of it, but vegetables? Forget it. Green beans, corn, cucumbers—maybe. Minimal fruit. And if I saw an onion in something? Game over. I wouldn’t touch it. It was wild, looking back. I was tiny. Thin. And it showed. My eating habits weren’t just bad—they were barely there.

Junk Food, Chaos, and the Empty Plate

My teen years were a blur of trash food and survival mode.

Fast food, fountain drinks, caffeine, nicotine, alcohol.

That was my diet. That was my life.

I survived off a meal a day—maybe. Food wasn’t nourishment, it was background noise. Something I tolerated at best.

Looking back, I realize food didn’t matter to me because I didn’t matter to me. I was too anxious, too lost, too caught in a storm to think about things like nutrition.

Eating well requires presence.

And I wasn’t present for much of anything.

Becoming a Mama Changed the Game

It wasn’t until I became a mother and wife that food started meaning something.

There’s something about feeding your babies that shifts everything.

You can’t do it half-ass. Not if you care.

So I taught myself to cook. Like, actually cook. From scratch. From love. From culture.

I leaned into where I came from—our bayou traditions, our Southern flavor, our communal way of celebrating everything through meals.

Down here, food is love. It’s how we show up. It’s what we bring when a baby’s born, when someone passes, when the Saints win, or when life just feels too damn heavy.

But it wasn’t until six months ago that I had a real awakening.

The Book That Blew My Mind

I stumbled on Dr. Casey Means’ book Good Energy around the start of the year.

And when I tell you it hit me like hurricane-force winds—I’m not exaggerating.

It was like everything I didn’t know was suddenly illuminated. The lightbulb moment I mentioned earlier? That was it.

Nutrition isn’t just about food—it’s about environment. Energy. Healing. And how we choose to nourish ourselves every single day.

I couldn’t believe how long I’d missed the mark.

But once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

Rooted in Dirt, Raised by Grace

Now I’m in year two of growing my own garden.

I still can’t believe it.

I used to laugh at “woo woo” people talking about grounding and holistic healing and now here I am, knee-deep in compost, whispering to my cucumber plants like they’re toddlers.

Life will humble you in the most beautiful ways.

Gardening has become church for me. Therapy. A way to connect to something pure and simple.

I tend to it, and it tends to me.

Simple. Whole. Alive.

That sentence came to me in the kitchen today, while making a meal that once would’ve meant nothing—and now means everything.

Eggs, turkey sausage, spinach, sharp cheddar. Bananas, blueberries, raspberries on the side. All natural. Pasture-raised. Whole.

Nutrient-dense. Not just in food, but in meaning.

That’s where I’m at now.

Still healing. Still learning. Still hungry—for growth, for peace, for life in its simplest form.

So if you’re struggling…

If you feel unwell or unseen or untethered—

Go back to the basics.

Go back to the root.

What you feed yourself matters. Not just your body, but your mind. Your soul. Your environment. Your community.

Strip it down. Simplify.

And let life rise up to meet you there.