As I was reconstituting myself toward the end of this past week, I spent some time thinking about responses to hopelessness.

There are so many speeches and verses and sayings about the importance of hope. We’re told that it’s an essential part of our humanness, that it’s vital to the continuation of our species, that we can’t abandon it, no matter how dark things seem.

I agree with all of that. But, whether I was responding to global events or to conditions in my private life, I’ve had moments when I wished that the command to remain hopeful came with instructions.

How? How to access hope when it feels inaccessible? How to respond to feelings of powerlessness or defeat? How to act boldly or bravely in the most profound moments of discouragement?

These questions have been on my mind a lot this fall; I’ve felt them personally and in response to the state of the world around me, especially this week.

On Thursday and Friday, one answer started took shape internally: service.

A year ago, I had a conversation with a good friend about the insidiousness of burnout. She told me that the best response to professional listlessness is to remember one’s desire to serve, to do good.

I felt as though I was being lectured. I responded (probably a little curtly) that I didn’t have enough energy for altruism.

I was being a bit sarcastic, but there was truth in my reaction. I was tired, so tired, and I didn’t want to hear about giving back.

That exchange was on my mind as the impulse to serve became clearer and more persistent this week.

The burnout that my friend and I discussed last year was work-related, and the desire to serve also relates to my professional life.

I was animated by a strong sense of purpose when I started this site fifteen years ago. I wanted to help people create positive relationships with food and their bodies, and I wanted to help animals.

So much has happened since, including way too much school, a couple bouts of depression, confusion over how to remain relevant in the ever-changing landscape of digital media, and realizing that the hustle of self-employment is increasingly at odds with my yearning for peace and stability.

Also, it’s easier to walk the heart-centered path of service when the scenery is enjoyable. Parts of my job require me to spend time in new and shifting landscapes, not all of which are where I belong.

For example, I used to find genuine enjoyment in sharing on Instagram. But I haven’t adapted especially well to its evolution.

I’m not really built for the fast-paced, stimulating, video-centric creator economy. I enjoy my privacy and the luxury of experiences that aren’t captured for consumption. It’s hard to honor that need while also responding to the demand for constant, high-quality content production.

Of course, social media is just one slice of the pie. But it used to be a slice that allowed me to feel connected to my community, and it’s not serving that purpose anymore.

So the question remains: how to serve?

One thing I know is that I find great fulfillment and meaning in supporting my clients. The moments this week that seemed to make sense were those in which I was holding space for the folks that I work with.

For a while now, I’ve wanted to expand upon my private practice with more general education resources: group classes, courses, group sessions, or all of the above.

These would be focused on nutrition education, rather than individual health support. They’d allow me to flex new, yet interconnected muscles.

I get anxious when I articulate professional goals aloud because I have a poor track record of follow-through with expanded offerings. (Remember the monthly newsletter that I was going to kick off in 2023?)

But these resources are something that I really want to create. This is not only because they would give me a capacity to work with more people, but also because evidence-based health information, nutrition science included, has never needed more platforming.

Growing and strengthening my skills as a clinician is the first pathway to service. Writing is the second.

Anyone who was reading in the summer of 2023 knows that I was having a hard time keeping up with my blog, these weekend posts included.

While my enthusiasm for social media is waning, however, my enjoyment of writing, and need to write, is still very much alive.

There will be a new cookbook in 2024 (more on that soon), but I’ll also be continuing to pour love into this online space. I’ll be sprucing up old recipes, creating new ones, and trying to create more nutrition-themed posts, too.

As hard as it is for me to state these things, worrying that I’ll be too overwhelmed to put them into action, it feels good to say them, too.

It makes me feel a little bit more like the person who started writing in 2009 for fun, and kept writing because it felt like the thing she was supposed to be doing with her life.

Most of all, it reminds me that I’m not powerless. There’s much that I can do, and want to do.

Tonight, I invite you to remember that you have gifts that make you able to serve others, and the world, uniquely. Whether you’ve forgotten about them or not, they’re there.

And before you serve, it’s OK to rest, to feel what you feel, and to strengthen yourself for what comes next.

Happy Sunday, friends. Here are some recipes and reads.

Recipes

1. I’ve never made pepper pot soup before. It looks so warming and cozy.

2. I can’t get enough soup right now, so here’s another: Vietnamese pumpkin soup.

3. Some seriously comforting, yet also very green, twice baked potatoes.

4. I love a hearty farro salad, especially at this time of year.

5. One of the best-looking vegan pecan pies I’ve ever seen.

Reads

1. I recently wrote about a friend’s mom, who has found comfort and grounding in cooking as her part of the world experiences violence and instability.

I was thinking back to that post this week. I found an echo of it in this article from Eater, which also presents cooking as a response to overwhelm. In the case of the article, that cooking is for community, rather than the self.

2. Along similar lines, Ginny Messina, who has always championed food as a form of activism, shared her reflections on feeding oneself in the face of injustice.

3. A heartening recollection of people helping each other out, penned by a recent NYC marathon finisher.

4. A portrait of coming of age surrounded by the consequences of climate change.

5. Speaking of hope, some hopeful new breakthroughs in the treatment of lupus.

This weekend’s meal prep included a festive favorite, my lentil quinoa salad with dried fruit and pecans, split pea soup with smoky tempeh croutons, and yet another batch of pumpkin cranberry walnut muffins.

I’m off to share those dishes with my mom.

Wishing you something nourishing and tasty tonight.

xo