Having MS has made me more conscious of that I eat and drink. I’m not saying I’ve discovered all the answers or have the perfect diet. I cheat, but I’ve learned that usually the consequences are not worth the few minutes of joy while eating  ice cream.

I’ve been cleaning out closets and I came across a cookbook I had made in grade school to save all the recipes my mother liked me to cook. Since she didn’t like to cook and I did, I’d make the recipes she liked. Good thing I didn’t usually eat most of the foods I made because they were pretty awful. These ‘recipes’ used box cake mixes, jello, Bisquick, powdered whip cream mix, canned fruit, and that’s why when I eat cakes I prefer to bought them online.

Still, flipping through those pages brought back so many memories. Even though the ingredients were far from fresh or nutritious, those recipes represented time spent together and small efforts to bring comfort to the table. Cooking for my mom gave me a sense of purpose, even if the results were sugary, over-processed, and occasionally inedible.

Now, with a better understanding of how food affects my body and my health, I cook with more intention—but I don’t dismiss where I started. That little handmade cookbook is a reminder of how my love for cooking began. It’s also proof that we all grow, evolve, and find better ways to nourish not just our bodies, but our lives.