As I sit in one of my nutrition classes, I find that my classmates ask questions ranging from, "My mom use to do this in the kitchen so does that mean..." or "Is that why so and so does this?" I just sit there and I can't help but feel behind even when it's the first time covering a certain topic.

I grew up in a household where the kitchen was never touched because my mom didn't want to clean up after our messes. If I would try to cook, I'd get in trouble because I didn't clean up right. I couldn't help but pull away from any attempt of cooking. This led to eighteen years of eating from this restaurant and that food chain. It wasn't I was in college that I cooked for myself for the first time in eighteen years. My knowledge of cooking/baking is very little. I can't help but feel stressed and fat when I'm sitting in class having my peers understand these concepts because of connections they're able to make because of what they've seen at home. I never was able to encounter such an experience.

It is stressful. My major is rather difficult because of the tedious details it incorporates. It's interesting to learn about, don't get me wrong. But at times I wish that I would have grown up in a home where the kitchen wasn't just another room in the house, where I knew what ingredients were in my food, where my desserts weren't frozen and defrosted before being served.

I think that's why I try so hard now.

I want to understand these concepts.

I want to be able to cook/bake for my future family.

I aspire to be an impact on someone who may be in the same boat as me. I know one day that these stressful semesters that lead to long nights of worry and tears will be worth it.

I am not what I grew up in.