Some people cook because they love it.
Others cook because they’re hungry.
I cook… because I want to prove I can open a yogurt without starting a full-scale kitchen war.
If you have cerebral palsy, you know cooking isn’t just cooking.
It’s an extreme sport disguised as a domestic activity.
And that’s when I discovered how to do things the “normal” way — we just have pp to do them in a way that works.
The kitchen — also known as the invention lab
For years I thought cooking was impossible for me.
Knives slip.
Jars mock you.
Lids have personal pride.
And pasta always tries to escape exactly when you’re not ready.
Until I realized:
the problem wasn’t me… the kitchen just wasn’t designed for me.
So I started building my personalized version of it — basically a human software upgrade.
That’s when my best friends arrived:
automatic jar openers (national heroes)
non-slip cutting boards
knives that don’t require Hulk strength
utensils with thick handles (blessed objects)
bowls that don’t run away while I stir
My kitchen now looks like a normal home mixed with a NASA laboratory.
The first victory: opening a jar
There are milestone moments in life:
first kiss, first paycheck, first trip…
And then there’s
opening a tomato jar by yourself.
That glorious pop echoed through the house.
I didn’t cry.
But I did consider writing a speech.
Cooking slowly is still cooking
I don’t cook fast.
I cook… cinematically.
While someone makes an omelet in 3 minutes, I make mine in 15 — with suspense, drama, and a plot twist (usually the spatula falling).
And I learned something powerful:
independence isn’t doing everything quickly
it’s being able to do it — at your own rhythm
And honestly?
Food I make tastes better.
Even when it looks weird.
Especially when it looks weird.
The unavoidable comedy
I’ve dropped rice on the floor and pretended it was part of the recipe.
I’ve argued with a potato because it wouldn’t cooperate.
I once apologized to an onion for the ten-minute massacre.
And yes, one time the toast popped and I got scared.
I’m not proud.
But I’m also not denying it.
The truth
Adaptive tools aren’t cheating.
They’re freedom shaped like utensils.
Each accessory doesn’t make me less capable.
It makes more things possible.
Because independence doesn’t come from strength…
it comes from strategy.
Today I cook.
Slowly, sometimes messy, often laughing.
I don’t run in the kitchen.
I dance in it.
And between falling spoons and splashing sauce, I realize:
I’m not just making food.
I’m building independence… one recipe at a time.
Want me to also make a short Instagram caption version?